


Yucatan Job - Second Stage

by acs



Series: The Yucatan Job [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alien Culture, Conspiracy, Day At The Beach, F/F, F/M, Fictionalized persons, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-01-15 04:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1292164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acs/pseuds/acs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dealings with Friends and Enemies while setting up their lands. Life gets a little more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kidnapped

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Fox owns the Glee Ship and all that sails on her, and RBI came up with the original idea. Not mine.  
>  **Word Count:** 5,102 ( 1 of 9 )  
> 

The curtain descended, blocking out the cast after the last curtain call. Rachel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It had been a good show, everyone in the cast had been superb. But it wasn’t the same. Her dream, for as long as she could remember, had been to be the one on that stage. And, even though she now had a place on a larger stage, the feeling that it should have been her hadn’t quite disappeared. 

"Hey, Rach," Brittany said, "want to go backstage and meet the cast?" 

Opening her eyes, Rachel looked past the most dangerous person in her life, at an usher nervously standing at the end of the row. 

"How much time do we have?" she asked. The reception at the UN had been the day before. Today was supposed to be their chance to be tourists. She’d been to New York years ago, and Brittany and her agents had familiarized themselves with all of the places she might want to visit as Ambassador. 

"We’ve arranged for dinner with the British Ambassador in two hours," Brittany said. "So, an hour, tops?" 

"That should be enough time," Rachel said. There’d been requests from several governments for meetings over the next few weeks. Some casual, some not. They weren’t trying to play favorites but a few had been given a higher priority than others. Tomorrow would be the Chinese Ambassador, and then the following day a meeting with the Russian Ambassador. 

"Who’s going to be there?" 

"The Ambassador, her family, a couple celebrities, the US Ambassador," Brittany said. 

"Okay," Rachel said, standing up. "Lead on." 

Smiling, Brittany stepped out into the aisle ahead of Rachel. The Secret Service agents they’d been unable to refuse, even after pointing out their own security, surrounded them. The large group followed the usher down into the theater, stopping at a small reception room. The Secret Service agents remained in the hall. 

The actors hadn’t arrived yet, Rachel noticed as they entered the room. She assumed they were getting out of their costumes and would be along shortly. 

Several of Quinn’s troopers were waiting for them, along with Brittany’s agents who were providing security, standing next to a surprise guest. Which explained the unexpected presence of the troopers. 

"Who’s idea was that?" Rachel asked softly, nodding at Quinn talking to one of the agents. She knew that it would have been impossible for Brittany to not know Quinn would be there. 

"She’s joining us for dinner," Brittany said. "I think she missed you." 

"We saw her two days ago," Rachel said. "That’s not enough time to miss anyone." 

"The Ambassador might also have expressed an interest in the 'Valkyrie in charge of our army'," Brittany said. "One of the people she rescued from the hotel last month was the Ambassador’s younger sister and nephew." 

"Oh," Rachel murmured, trying not to feel disappointed. "She looks good in that uniform." 

"The word you’re looking for is 'scrumptious'," Brittany said, smirking. "Makes you want to push her up against a wall and tear it off." 

"Brittany!" Rachel sputtered. "That’s Quinn!" 

"Yes, yes it is," Brittany said, winking at her. "Too bad she keeps turning me down. Her and Santana together would be awesome." 

"I... I...," Rachel couldn’t think of a comeback to that declaration. Taking a deep breath, and hoping no one could see her blush, Rachel shook her head and strode over to Quinn. "Hi," she said, smiling up at Quinn. 

"How was the show," Quinn asked. 

"It was great," Rachel said, unable to suppress her smile. "Were you able to see any of it?" 

"No," Quinn said. "They’re coming down to Cancun in a few months to put it on. I’ll see it then." 

"They are?" Rachel said, surprised. "Who approved that without asking me?" She wasn’t exactly angry, but cultural exchanges were part of her responsibility. 

"There was nothing to really approve," Quinn said. "The theater company had a contract with one of the hotels we purchased in Cancun for a week’s worth of performances. We agreed to honor their contracts." 

"Oh." Rachel thought for a moment. "We’ll need to find them a better theater. None of the hotels have anything fit for them to perform in." 

"It was really an attempt to take advantage of a tax loop-hole," Brittany said, joining them. "The owners expected to lose money." 

"How’d you find that out?" Rachel asked, looking around to make sure no one heard them, even though the chances of anyone being able to understand Clan-speak were slim. 

"The usual," Brittany said. Quinn just laughed. 

"Sorry," Rachel said. Sometimes, she forgot how much Brittany knew about everything that their lives contacted. "Do we need a translator?" she asked, as the actors came into the room. 

"Nah," Brittany said. "Just a little bit of an accent and no Ohio-isms. And I know it’s hard but pretend Quinn isn’t here." 

"Okay…" Rachel said, taking a deep breath and putting her most welcoming smile on. 

* * *

"That wasn’t too bad," Quinn said, making herself comfortable in the car that would take them to their hotel before whisking them off to the British Embassy. 

"You didn’t have to make small talk with a bunch of high actors," Brittany said in a low voice, nodding at Rachel, who was staring out at traffic. 

"High?" Quinn asked, clearly puzzled. 

"Actors are adrenaline junkies," Brittany said. "Like us, but for different reasons. They were bouncing off the walls. She misses that feeling you get in a crowd." 

"She never performed on Broadway," Quinn said, frowning. 

"She was constantly performing in Lima," Brittany said. "Whenever she was in public, that was performance art." 

"Really?" Quinn stared at Rachel. "So she’s calmer now because she doesn’t have to perform?" 

"She can be her real self, now," Brittany said. "Artie says it took her a while to adjust." 

"She’s still kind of dramatic," Quinn said. 

"That won’t change," Brittany said. "But now she doesn’t have to be 'on' all the time. It’s less stressful. And better for you." 

"Me?" Quinn asked, smiling back at Rachel. 

"You can be you, and she can be her," Brittany said. "More fun that way. Like me and San." 

"Brittany…" Quinn said warningly. "You know we aren’t like that." 

"But you could be," Brittany said. "You’ll see." 

* * *

"What were you and Quinn talking about in the car?" Rachel asked Brittany, as she refreshed her makeup after changing into more formal clothes for dinner. 

"This and that," Brittany said, leaning against the bedroom door. "Nothing you need to worry about." 

"It seemed a bit serious," Rachel said. 

"Just Quinn being Quinn," Brittany said. 

"She didn’t look too happy," Rachel said. 

"She thinks too hard sometimes," Brittany said. 

"We need to do something about that," Rachel said. "She needs to have real fun." 

"Definitely," Brittany said. "We’ll get her sister to help." 

"Do we have to?" Rachel asked, pouting. 

"Why not?" Brittany asked. "You’re okay with your Mom being friends with Frannie, aren’t you?" 

"I think they’re more than friends," Rachel muttered. 

"You’re okay with me and San, and your dads," Brittany said. 

"But that’s my mother and Quinn’s sister. If they got married, that would make Quinn my aunt," Rachel said, visibly shivering at the thought. 

"The sexy aunt," Brittany said, giggling. 

"Let’s not talk about that now. Or ever," Rachel said. 

"Okay," Brittany said. "Ready?" 

"Ready," Rachel said. 

* * *

"That was fun," Rachel said, as they walked back to their rooms. Quinn and her troopers had already headed back to the ship, and two of Brittany’s agents had gone ahead to check their rooms. "Quinn seemed a bit embarrassed by the attention." 

"She saved the life of a member of the Royal family," Brittany said. "The Queen will probably want to meet her." 

"The Queen?" Rachel said, squeaking. "Can we meet her also?" 

"It’s possible," Brittany said. "We’ll have to discuss it. If the Queen requests a visit from all of us." 

"Well, I vote yes," Rachel said, following Brittany into the elevator. When the door closed behind them, Brittany frowned, stepping between Rachel and the door. "What’s wrong?" 

"Rachel?" Brittany said, lowering her voice. "Hailey and Stacy aren’t responding to my call." 

Rachel nervously looked around the small compartment. "What happened to them?" 

"Thuma says they’re on our floor," Brittany said after a long pause. "Their id’s are showing up on her scanner, but she can’t access their telemetry. Something is blocking the signal." 

"I didn’t think that was possible," Rachel said. 

"Not normally," Brittany said. "Do you smell that?" 

"Smell what?" Rachel asked. 

"Some kind of gas," Brittany said. "Starting to feel numb?" 

Rachel nodded, trying to hold her breath. Her arms and hands were tingling. 

"Subtle," Brittany said, coughing. "We should probably sit down. Rescue isn’t going to be here in time." 

Rachel leaned against the wall, and slid down to the floor. "Quinn will find us," she said confidently. 

"Already notified Artie," Brittany said. "Going to take a little while for the rescue. Thuma is keeping an eye on us. Just need to be patient." 

"Why’s she not here now," Rachel gasped. 

"Need to catch them," Brittany said. "Close your eyes. Take a nap." 

"'kay," Rachel mumbled, closing her eyes. 

"Brittany?" Santana’s voice intruded on her thoughts. "What’s going on?" 

"Hey San," Brittany subvocalized, pretending to be asleep. "Looks like they’re making their move now. The same gas they used on Q’s mother." 

"You’re okay?" Santana asked. 

"Fine. The antidote works. But Rachel’s out." 

"Don’t let anything happen to her," Santana said. "Quinn will kill us." 

"She’s gonna be angry that we used Rach for bait," Brittany said. 

"We can live with that," Santana said. 

"San? The elevator’s stopping. Thuma says there are six of them out there." 

"Notifying Quinn now," Santana said. "Wish me luck." 

"You’re my San, you don’t need luck," Brittany said. "Hey San?" 

"They’re wearing black suits, like from that movie," Brittany said. "Need to pretend to be unconscious," she said. "Goin’ silent." Not waiting for Santana to respond, Brittany went into a trance, slowing down her heart rate and neural systems. They didn’t know what the men in black had for equipment but she suspected they could tell if she was faking being unconscious, which was one reason they hadn’t told Rachel, or Quinn, about the ambush. 

Brittany didn’t react as she was lifted onto something, she assumed it was some kind of kart they could sneak her and Rachel out of the hotel in. She turned up the gain on her exterior mike so Thuma could record and forward everything she heard to Artie for analysis. And rescue. 

* * *

"Yes, sir, we have both of them," a voice said. "No, it was easy. The gas knocked them out before they knew what was happening. Their security was incompetent." 

"Secret Service? No, no problem at all. Stuck in traffic like we planned. Yes, transporting now. We should be to the airport in an hour. Yes, sir." 

"They don't look like powerful aliens," another voice said. "I think it's a scam." 

"You'd think aliens would have better security," the first voice said in agreement. "We grabbed them and no one tried to stop us." 

"It's almost like the Secret Service wanted us to have them," one of them said. 

"A bunch of women," the original voice said. "They've bit off more than they can chew." 

"What about that shield covering Cancun?" 

"I bet it's fake too," one of them said. "Probably some hacker tricked the radar computers and spy satellites." 

"We'll know as soon as Interrogation works on them," a voice said. "No one can resist those guys." 

"Almost feel sorry for them," the original voice said. "They even made that Double O agent talk, and those guys are trained to resist torture." 

"I hear there wasn’t enough left of him to bury after," one of them said. 

Thuma, listening to them talk winced, as they trailed them in their hard suits. Hearing a low growl over their com link, she looked over at Stacy, who might be mobile but was still recovering from the neuro-gas. 

"We won’t let that happen," she said to the others. "We’ll have reinforcements before anything can happen. And the boss won’t allow anything to happen to Lady Rachel." 

"Don’t like these men," Hailey said. "Hope the boss has a plan. With a lot of pain." 

"The Boss is bringing in The Q and her team," Thuma said. "It’s going to be messy." 

"Good," said Stacy. "They don’t do subtle. They’ll get the message across that you don’t mess with us." 

* * *

"What do you mean, Rachel’s been kidnapped?" Quinn said, meeting Santana in the docking bay, still in her hardsuit. "She was with Brittany, and Brittany’s best security team. How did someone get past them?" 

"They used the same knockout gas on them that they used when they kidnapped your mother," Santana said. 

"When did they kidnap my mother?" Quinn asked in surprise. 

"Last week," Santana said. "But Brittany was able to rescue her before they could do anything to her." 

"My father?" Quinn asked. "Did they get him?" 

"Nope," Santana said. "They didn’t seem to want him." 

"Not surprised," Quinn said. "Where’s my mother now?" 

"We’ve got her stashed in the US Embassy in London," Santana said. "Your father is still in Israel. Rumor has it they’re separated." 

"Good for her," Quinn said. "What about Rachel and Brittany. I’m assuming this is some Brittany plan, since you aren’t chasing after her." 

"Yes…" Santana said nervously. "It’s a trap. As soon as they get to the MiB’s secret base, we swoop in and rescue them." 

"MiB’s?" Quinn asked, heading towards her command office, Santana in tow. "This isn’t some government or terrorist hit squad?" 

"Brittany calls them that - Men In Black. They seem to be living the cliche. They dress in black. Drive black cars, and have black helicopters. And they’re evil, from what Brit has dug up so far. No ties to any governments that she can find." 

"How long has she known about them?" Quinn asked. 

"Just rumors until they snatched your mother," Santana said. "Her Q is still analyzing the evidence from that." 

"I assume there’s some plan to keep Rachel safe until we can rescue them?" Quinn said. 

"Oh yeah," Santana said, visibly relieved that she’d escaped a Quinn attack. "Brittany took the antidote to the gas and is broadcasting. Her security team is sticking close to them." 

"Good," Quinn said. "Don’t think we won’t have words when this is over," she said. "No matter how good Brittany is, Rachel shouldn’t be put at risk like this." 

"You don’t think I know that?" Santana said. "Brittany thinks this is the fastest way to take them down, and set an example. So she’s expecting you and Gold Team to make a flashy entrance when you drop in to rescue them." 

Quinn nodded. She didn’t like Rachel being bait. Brittany should know better, and probably did, but she liked doing her own thing. They would have to have a chat also. After Rachel was safe. 

"Does anyone else know about this?" Quinn asked. 

"Brittany’s people and us," Santana said. 

"What happened to the Secret Service? I thought they were backup?" 

"Brittany waved them off. The MiB’s think they got stuck in traffic. She thinks they’ve got a leak. One of her people to digging into that now," Santana said. 

"Okay," Quinn said. "I want everything Britt knows about them. I’m assuming she’s recording everything." 

"Yes," Santana said, pausing. "You should have that now." 

"Got it," Quinn said, pulling it up on her display. "They aren’t playing games, are they," she said listening to the initial recordings from when they’d kidnapped Rachel and Brittany. She nodded to herself when Brittany shut down and her comm coordinator took over. 

"Nope, these guys play hard," Santana said. 

"We play harder," Quinn said. "They have no idea what they’ve bitten into. Pinn? I want Gold Team ready to go in 10 and Blue team on standby." 

"Yes, Boss," Pinn said, leaving the room. 

"Where are they now?" Quinn asked. 

"A small airport in Jersey," Santana said. "Here," she said, pulling it up on Quinn’s ready-board. Two dots, one red, and one gold were visible inside a small hanger. Three other dots, one outside the airport and the remaining two just outside the hanger. "They’ve already tagged the plane." 

"Do we know where it’s going?" Quinn asked. 

"It has three different flight plans filed," Santana said. "Some small town in Canada, Iceland, and Cuba." 

"Let’s hope it isn’t Cuba," Quinn said. "That’s a can of worms we don’t need to deal with." 

"I’m betting Iceland," Santana said. 

"Artie?" Quinn said, wondering why the AI had been silent. "What do you think?" "Cuba seems the least likely," Artie said. "The available information indicates this organization has multiple bases outside of population centers but situated in stable political entities." 

"So, Canada or Iceland. Do we have relationships with either of those governments or are we going to cause an international incident." 

"International incident," Santana said. "If it’s Canada we might be able to get the Queen to smooth things over for us; she likes you. I think she wants one of her nephews to marry you." 

"Not happening," Quinn said. "Let’s hope it’s Iceland." 

"Looks like the plane is leaving," Santana said, pointing at the screen. 

"We’re ready to go," Pinn said, from the door. 

"You coming along?" Quinn asked Santana. 

"Coming along? I’m flying," Santana said. "But I’ll leave the drop to you. You don’t need a spectator. Just make sure Rachel and Britt are safe." 

"Oh, I will," Quinn said. "Okay. Artie, keep us updated on their status." 

"Yes, Lady Quinn," Artie said. 

* * *

"We’ve got a location," Santana said over the combat channel in the drop-ship. "We’ll be over it in five minutes." 

Clamped into the drop-bucket, Quinn pulled up the tactical map on her visor. "Got it," she announced, updating her plan with the target layout. It wasn’t a very large compound. Artie’s scanners detected only thirty life signs above and below ground. "We drop as soon as they land," she said 

"Cutting it close there Q," Santana said. 

"You do your job, I’ll do mine," Quinn said, feeling no need to explain her plan, though she flashed a copy to Artie and Santana. "Standard hostage rescue, ladies," Quinn told her team, sending them their individual assignments attached to the target map. "Activate the Containment field as soon as that plane lands. I don’t want any noise escaping." 

"Ready," Pinn said. "Container released." 

"Pip, you and Squeak protect the Memory," Quinn said. Her best bodyguards, they’d already gotten their assignments but she preferred to vocally reinforce them. "Get to her as fast as possible. The Shadow should be with her. Get them both into their hard suits and get them out. Pickup is one click south." 

"Yes, Boss," Pip said, speaking for both of them. 

"As soon as the Memory is out, we’ll round them up. No mercy," Quinn said. "This is a lesson." 

A flood of acknowledgements hit her team comm. Quinn grinned fiercely. 

"Over target," Santana’s jump master announced. Green lights came on across the bucket. 

"Okay ladies, we’ll meet up on the ground," Quinn said, tapping her release. "Good hunting." 

* * *

With a soft thud, Quinn’s hard suit hit ground inside the small compound. She could see her team taking their positions on her tack display overlaid on top of the signal from the containment unit and the tac info from the drop ship. 

"Memory secure," Pip reported. "She’s unconscious. The Shadow is getting into her suit now." 

"Hey Quinn," Brittany’s voice cut in over the command channel. "I need a couple of them alive." 

"You can have anyone who doesn’t fight back," Quinn said. "The rest are paste. That’s non-negotiable." 

"Got it," Brittany said, her tiredness clear. "We’re headed to pick-up. Rachel needs the anti-dote. They gave her an extra dose of the gas." 

"You’ve got Pip and Squeak," Quinn said, repressing her desire to check on Rachel personally. "Santana is with the drop-ship," she added, though she wouldn’t be surprised if Santana flew pick-up herself. 

"Acknowledged," Brittany said. 

Quickly checking her team’s stats, Quinn headed towards her own target, ignoring the sound of gunfire even as her suit identified the different types of armament being used. The target scan had revealed what looked like a heavily fortified command bunker near the center of the compound. She’d reserved that for herself. 

"Hey Boss," Whist said, joining her at the bunker, flames from a burning building reflecting off her hard suit. 

"All done?" Quinn asked. Whist had been given transport detail. Any vehicle and repair capability was to be destroyed. There was to be no way to escape. 

"Completely trashed," she said. "One guard. I don’t think they were expecting us." 

"They think they’re invisible," Quinn said. "They’ve hacked all of the local spy satellite feeds." 

"Except ours," Whist said. 

"Exactly," Quinn said. "Ready?" 

"Ready," Whist said. 

Setting her energy guns for maximum output, Quinn opened fire on the bunker entrance, a small building that looked like a metal shed. Whist quickly followed, joined by Pinn who’d just finished destroying her own target. 

The sides of the shed seemed to balloon out under the silent onslaught before the whole thing collapsed, exposing a cement stairway. Advancing forward, Quinn stopped at the top of the stairs, scanning them for any traps. 

"Nasty," said Pinn. "One step and the whole thing turns into a slide ending in those spikes at the bottom." 

"Explosive spikes," Quinn said. "Somebody’s been watching too many Bond films." 

"So, how do you want to handle this?" Whist asked. 

"Lady Shadow covers these in her 'Evil Overlord, Genius or Cliche' seminar," Pinn said. "Right Boss?" 

"Someone really needs to talk to her about her seminar titles," Quinn said. "But, yes, she covers the classics. A couple wall buster grenades should clear this out." 

"On it," Whist said, aiming at the door at the bottom. "Might want to step back a few meters," she added. 

Backing up, Quinn and Pinn waited for the tell-tale sound of the grenades doing their thing. 

"All clear," Whist announced. Moving closer, Quinn looked down the stairwell. The grenades had vaporized a large part of the stairs, and eaten into the doorway. 

"Air lock?" Pinn asked, pointing at the inner door. 

"That’s ominous," Quinn muttered. "Warn the others that there might be biologic weapons in play." 

"Yes, sir," Pinn said. "Done." 

Quinn jumped down into the hole and examined the now visible inner door. Learning forward, she pushed against it. There was a large screeching sound and the heavy metal door fell inward, halting before hitting the floor by several bodies wearing black body armor. 

"Looks like they were waiting for us," Quinn said, when Pinn and Whist joined her. She kicked the door in further, out of their way, and cautiously entered the bunker. A long hall stretched out at a downward angle 

"Boss, I’m picking up several life signs that way," Pinn said, pointing down the hall. "But no weapons." 

"Definitely weren’t expecting visitors," Whist said, carefully inching down the hall. As she approached the first door, it popped open and a small object rolled out. 

"Watch out," Pinn said, shooting at it with her energy gun, attempting to knock it away from Whist. A loud explosion shook the hall as her next shot hit it. "I don’t think they like us," she said, when the smoke cleared. 

"Us?" Whist said, turning around. Stepping towards the door, she kicked it open and tossed in a grenade, ducking to the side just in time to avoid the resulting explosion. 

"Concussion grenade?" Pinn said. 

"You wanted them alive?" Whist asked, pushing the door open all the way. 

"Not if they’re shooting at us," Quinn said, relieved. "Let’s be a little more careful here." 

"We’re always careful," Pinn said. "There weren’t any life signs coming from that room," she said. 

"Doesn’t mean there isn’t something dangerous in it," Quinn said. "Adjust your sensors." 

"Yes, Boss," they both said. 

"It’s empty," Pinn said, going into the room. "Interesting little gadget," she said, kicking a small object out into the hall. "Some kind of motion detector grenade launcher." 

"What opened the door," Whist asked, from her position further down the hall. 

"Door’s electronic," Pinn said. "How many more doors are there?" 

"Five like this," Whist said, "and a big one at the end of the hall." 

"Assume they’re all booby-trapped like this one," Quinn told them. "That explosion wouldn’t scratch your suit but it’ll give them a chance to escape. So we need to deal with them." 

"Leap frog?" Pinn suggested. 

"Leap frog," Whist agreed. "Ready?" 

"Go," Pinn said. 

On the word 'Go', Whist ran to the next door, Pinn close behind. Several feet before the door she jumped forward to the other side. When she hit the floor, the door popped open and a grenade popped out. 

* * *

Quinn winced with every explosion as Pinn and Whist worked their way down the hall. It wasn’t the sound, their hard suits protected them from most of the loud noise, but the potential for surprise. With each foot gained towards the end, the MiB’s could throw something unexpected at them. No matter how good their suits were, there was always the chance that something unknown could affect them. 

They reached the end of the hall with a lot of noise and smoke, but no injuries, and no signs of life other than what their sensors were picking up at the end of the hall. 

"No window?" Quinn said. 

"Video," Whist said. "Here, here, and over there," she said, marking the wall and ceiling. "The whole door is audio pickup." 

"Are your instruments picking up anything on the other side?" Quinn asked Whist, whose hard suit was outfitted with a few extras. "All I’m getting are three weak life signs." 

"Lots of electronic chatter from their computers," Whist said, placing hand mines along the edges of the doors. "I suspect they know we’re here." 

"The Shadow will be happy. She’ll get things for her analysts to play with," Quinn said. "Britt?" she said, over the command channel. "How are you and Rachel doing?" 

"Rach is conscious and on her way to the drop-ship," Brittany said. "She’s doing fine." 

"Good. We’re about to crack open their command center. The rest of the compound is under our control." 

"Try not to destroy everything," Brittany said. "Can you wait for me?" 

"I’d rather not," Quinn said. "They know we’re here. The bunker was booby trapped so they heard us coming." 

"Too bad," Brittany said. "My team should be there in ten. Please leave something for them to look at." 

"No promises," Quinn said. "Ready?" she asked Pinn. 

"Ready, Boss," Pinn said. "Blowing the door and gassing them." 

They moved back out of the blast zone. "Now!" Quinn said. A small thud shook the hallway in an almost anti-climactic manner. The door shook, and fell inward, followed with several flashes as all three of them launched gas grenades into the room. 

* * *

Quinn looked around the crowded room. It was wall to wall with electronic equipment. There had been three men in the room, knocked out by the blast and gas combination. Two in lab coats and one in what they were coming to recognize as a uniform-like suit. To prevent any suicide attempts, they’d all been placed in stasis and taken away by one of Brittany’s crews. Another group was carefully dismantling the equipment. So far, they’d found two different self-destruct mechanisms. 

"Is this enough?" Quinn asked Brittany on their private channel. "Worth the risk to Rachel and yourself?" 

"We won’t know for a few days," Brittany said. "But something is missing." 

"What?" 

"Where’s their interrogation room? Their cells for prisoners?" Brittany asked. "This is a listening post, not a full working base." 

"So we didn’t wipe out one of their bases?" Quinn said. 

"We hit something important," Brittany said. "And they’ll wonder what happened to it when we leave." 

"I don’t want anything left behind," Quinn said. "Once you’ve taken everything you think is important, we’ll wrap it up in a bubble and put the whole thing in storage. I’m sure Santana can find us a place to stick it, right?" 

"I know just the place," Santana said over their private channel. "But you need to be more careful," she said. "Your hard suits aren’t going to stop everything. Someone is going to find a weapon that’ll poke holes in them. You were taking unnecessary risks." 

"I know the capabilities of the suits better than you do," Quinn said dismissively. "We’re not even close to pushing them to their limits." 

"If you get killed, I’m not the one who’s gonna to cry for your dead ass," Santana said. "Britt, keep an eye on her down there. Rachel wants her back in one piece so she can yell at her." 

"I don’t need a babysitter," Quinn said. "And Britt has enough to do already." Shaking her head, she headed out of the bunker to check on her troopers. It had been a relatively simple operation. Almost like a training exercise, if they ignored the booby traps all over the place and the stasis bags full of alive and dead MiBs. 

"What’s the final count?" She asked Pinn. 

"The only ones we captured alive were those three in the bunker," she said. "They went kamikaze when they realised they were trapped." 

"How soon until we can bubble it?" Quinn asked. 

"We’re almost done with the command center," Brittany said. 

"The Techs have the bubble primed," said Pinn. "As soon as Lady Shadow gives the signal they’ll pop it." 

"Good. Have everyone pull back outside of the perimeter. Now isn’t the time to practice bubble survival." 

"They’re all out except for the Shadows," Pinn said. 

"Britt?" Quinn said. "Done?" 

"Five more minutes," Brittany said. "Just ran into another self-destruct." 

"Surprised they didn’t attempt to use them," Quinn said. 

"Remotely activated," Brittany said. "That’s my educated guess anyway." 

"Interesting," Quinn said. 

"Very," Brittany agreed. "Okay, we’re done. All wrapped up and headed to extraction." 

There was a slight blurring motion and Brittany appeared next to Quinn. "All out," she said. Seconds later, a silver dome appeared, encapsulating the compound. With a rapid vibration, the silver dome rose into the air, becoming a large silver sphere that continued to rise until it was out of sight.


	2. Welcome to the Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Pairings/Characters:** Brittany/Santana, Quinn, Rachel, Kurt Hummel, Puck, Mercedes Jones, several OC's, pseudo-Ellen/pseudo_Portia, others mentioned  
>  **Important Note:** Although this is not a RPF - The characters of Ellen and Portia are fictional characters based on real people. But other than names, occupations, and relationships, they are basically OC's and are not intended to be accurate representations of real persons, living or dead.  
>  **Word Count:** 5,202 ( 2 of 9 )  
> 

Her show’s opening theme playing in the background, Ellen hummed happily to herself as she danced into the audience and back. "Next week we’re going to the beach!" she said excitedly, to cheers from her audience. "And not just any beach. Portia and I have been invited down to Cancun! These lovely ladies have invited us to introduce them to the world," she said, as pictures of Brittany, Santana, and Quinn in their Clan uniforms, and Rachel in the colorful, traditional Clan dress of a Memory, serious expressions on their faces, flashed by on the large screen behind her. 

"We can’t take you with us, you won’t fit in our carry-ons," she said sadly, "but they’ve sent along traditional Mayan scarves and hats for everyone." The audience started cheering louder, as the show cut to a commercial. As soon as the cameras were off, a dozen interns and assistants rolled out large boxes and started handing out colorful woven scarves and hats to everyone. 

Holding out her hand, Ellen gestured off-stage. The music came back on and Ellen danced over, out of view of the cameras, reappearing with Portia, waltzing her around the bright chaos her set had become, before plopping her down next to Ellen’s chair. 

"Excited?" Ellen asked, her eyes twinkling in that way of hers that was somewhere between childish glee and madness. 

Portia smiled tightly. "Anywhere you go, I will follow," she sang softly. 

"They’re a cute bunch," Ellen said. "Can you believe they’re aliens?" 

"Hopefully, they’re also fans," Portia said. 

"They’ll love us," Ellen said in a low voice, straightening her jacket, finishing just as the set lights brightened and the music died down. "Welcome back to the show," she said to the camera. "Next up, we thought we’d take you along as we go shopping for beachwear." 

* * *

"Hey Kurt, what can I get you?" Puck asked, wiping the bar in front of him. "Surprise me," he said. He'd made a few extra dollars on the new line of makeup the cosmetic company he worked for between acting jobs was pushing. It was supposed to match the colors that the alien women supposedly wore, though it looked like the usual Chinese knock-offs to his expert eye. Hopefully he’d have a real job elsewhere before someone sued the company out of existence for the poor quality. 

"A good week?" Puck asked, putting a tall glass down on the bar and picking up a bottle of Kurt's favorite liqueur.

"Not bad," Kurt said. "Could you turn that up?" He pointed at the TV at the end of the bar. It was showing one of the shuttles the aliens used to zip around in when they ventured out of their enclave in Mexico. He'd read on one of the gossip blogs that all of the aliens were women. Not a single male alien had been sighted. Shaking his head, he wondered who in the company had that territory, and if he could get a piece of it. The blaring TV caused him to jump.

* * *

  
[ _Speaking excitedly off camera, a loud reporter narrated as video of the alien shuttle landing at Camp David, and the aliens walking away from it in the distance, played in a loop._ ]

"Today, the President of the United States met with representatives of the Mayan Apocalypse aliens at Camp David. No details of their talks have emerged but the White House characterized them as a meaningful step forward. This is only the first official meeting between the aliens and the White House, though rumors have been swirling around for the last month that the White House has been in contact with them since they landed and set up their enclave on the Yucatan peninsula. 

No word, as yet on when they plan to release any foreign nationals trapped in Cancun when the area was annexed. Or when vacationers can return to the beaches of Cancun. A communications blackout is still in effect across the entire area. 

In other news, the aliens are scheduled to appear on a series of extra special Ellen shows next week. Join us nightly for the post show analysis. But first, a special report on the effect the sudden appearance of the aliens is having on the world economy."

* * *

"Oh my God!" Kurt said, staring at the TV. "Puck! Have you seen this?" He pointed at the TV. 

"It's just the news," Puck said, as he wiped another glass. 

"Who does that look like?" Kurt asked, pointing at the women on the TV. 

"Two hot alien chicks," Puck said, briefly looking up before putting the glass away. 

"They don't look familiar?" Kurt asked. "At all?" 

"Nope," Puck said, as he continued to work his way through the glasses.

"You're no help!" Kurt muttered. Pulling out his phone, he quickly hit 1 on his speed dial.

"Mercedes! Are you near a TV?" Kurt asked quickly.

"Dammit, Kurt! I'm at work," Mercedes said, over 90's pop blaring in the background.

"Find a TV," he said. "Now, please."

"Hold on!" she said. "Got it," she said breathlessly, several rushed minutes later. "Now what?"

"Find a news channel," Kurt said.

"Okay," she said. "They’re all showing some boring alien footage," she added in a puzzled voice.

"Good, good," he said. "Look really close. Do any of those aliens look familiar?"

"One's short, dressed in some kind of tacky alien dress. The other is rockin' a catsuit better than ScarJo as the Black Widow. And there are a couple others looking like refugees from some cartoon."

"Do they look familiar?" Kurt repeated. "Look really closely at the short one."

"No way!" Mercedes said. "I knew I was right. Jacob always claimed they was kidnapped by aliens."

"I think we need to take a trip down to Cancun, as soon as they open back up," Kurt said.

"Do we tell anyone?" she asked. "This time?"

"Definitely not," Kurt said, remembering the negative reaction the week before when Mercedes had called everyone claiming one of the aliens was Rachel Berry. "This is our scoop."

"Gotcha," Mercedes said. "I need to get back to work. Tomorrow at the Lima Bean? Usual table?"

"Tomorrow," Kurt agreed before hanging up.

"Cancun? I can do that," Puck said, smirking. "Hot alien babes. The Puckster is all over that."

"That was a private conversation," Kurt said, frowning at him.

Smirking, Puck pointed at a sign over the bar. It read ' _This is a bar, not your home. Everyone can hear you._ ' "So, when are we leaving?" he asked.

"Argh!" Kurt banged his head on the bar. "You’re paying your own way," he said.

"Got that covered," Puck said, holding up his phone. "Hey Artie!" he shouted into the phone. "You still planning on a show down in Cancun about the Apocalypse? No, it’s still good. We’ve got an in. One of those aliens is the spitting image of Brittany. I bet she was already an alien. She’ll talk with us. She was always a sucker for the Puckster. I’ll get back to you on travel and stuff," he said, before hanging up. "There. All set."

"Brittany, if that is Brittany, isn’t going to help," Kurt said. Puck just continued to smirk at him. Kurt took out his smartphone. "So, three of us and Artie and his camera crew. We’ll need a large bus."

"Four and Artie," Puck said. "My bro Finn is coming with us."

"Why?" Kurt asked.

"He’s still got a thing for Berry," Puck said. "He used to have her wrapped around his finger. If it’s her, we’ve definitely got an in. And beaches and hot babes and gold. He’s my bro. I can’t leave him behind to miss all of that."

"Wasn’t it the other way around?" Kurt said. "She had him wrapped around her fingers. And there’s no gold. The Spanish got it all."

"Sure there’s gold. Don’t all aliens have tons of it? So they can buy slaves on every planet they visit?"

"Where do you get your ideas from," Kurt asked in disgust. "There’s no gold. And that sounds like the plot to one of those SyFy Playboy B-movies."

"So it must be true," Puck said, laughing at his outraged expression. "If it’s Berry and the Cheerios, they aren’t gonna be happy to see us," Puck said, becoming serious for a moment. "If they’re brainwashed they’ll try to kill us. Or Satan will kill us for ruining their scam if they aren’t."

"No one is killing anyone," Kurt said. "We’re just going to visit some old school friends and check out the scene."

"And the hot alien babes," Puck said.

"I’ll leave them all to you and Finn," Kurt said.

"We’ve got that covered," Puck said, grinning. 

* * *

"Impressive," Ellen said, looking at the half dozen alien women meeting her and Portia outside the Miami airport. From there they would travel by some mysterious alien method to Cancun. But right now she was unable to stop looking at their escort, several of whom were dressed in the armor suits that everyone was talking about. "All this for us?" 

"If you would come with us, Lady Ellen, Lady Portia," one of them, a tall blonde, said. "Our vehicle is waiting. Your luggage has already been loaded." 

"She called me a Lady," Ellen whispered to her wife, with a wide grin. "I like these people." 

Portia shook her head, muttering "It’s going to be a long week," in a low voice to herself. 

Together, Ellen tugging her forward, they followed their escort towards a side exit, away from the curious crowds. 

* * *

"Welcome aboard," a short, dark skinned woman said, standing in the entrance of the odd looking vehicle. "As soon as you're seated we can leave." 

"This is so amazing," Ellen said, bouncing in her seat. "A trip to the beach in a spaceship. With a model crew." 

"You’ll be staying in one of our beachside huts," the woman said. "We’ll take you to your accommodations and an escort will be provided from there to your meeting with the Council after you’ve had time to freshen up." 

"Excellent," Ellen said, leaning back in her seat, her eyes taking in everything, one hand gripping Portia’s nearest. 

* * *

Meeting the alien leaders later that afternoon, Ellen was all business, much to Portia’s relief. The aliens hadn’t allowed Ellen to bring any of her crew so Portia expected to spend the week keeping her wife on task, something that was hard enough to do in their private life. 

"So, we’ll need to see the studio, and I’d like to meet the crew," Ellen said. "And I’d like to spend some time getting to know you before we record anything. Likes, dislikes, anything you want to tell me. We usually film 4 hours of material and trim it down to an hour broadcast. I have some ideas but suggestions are welcome." 

"So, five days? That’s twenty hours. What kinds of things did you have in mind?" the short brunette said, who’d been introduced as Lady Memory. 

"Well, Mem, you don’t mind if I call you that?" Ellen said to her, "Something for local color. We are in Cancun so something at the beach. And a look at the nightlife. And you all claim to be descendants of the Mayans so we should probably look at some old buildings, meet some natives. And then the interviews. You can pick the order but I’d like to have all four of you together on the last day. And probably something romantic, like a waterfall. And some human interest stuff. With your people and with the locals. See how they’re doing with all this." 

"I think we can do that," Mem said, learning over to whisper to one of the others. 

* * *

"Well, we’re here in Cancun and I have to say, Portia has decided to stay on the beach all week, it’s so lovely," Ellen said. "We’ve got a lovely audience, in fact one could say they’re a model audience," she said as the camera panned across several hundred women in a jumble of styles of clothing, alien and tourist. "I was almost afraid to come out here," she said. "It’s like having all of the models from New York Fashion week but none of the gossipy, catty designers. Portia and I may just stay down here." 

"First up, to get us started, our first guest is Memory, the historian and ambassador of our wonderful hosts. She and her fellow aliens learned our language to save us money on an interpreter. Let’s all give her a cheer!" 

To the sound of applause and whistles, Lady Memory stepped out into the studio. Dancing over to her, Ellen grabbed her hands and waltzed her around the studio before ending at the chairs, an almost identical reproduction of the set in her own studio. 

"So, Mem, you’ve graciously agreed to be my first interview," Ellen said. "And our viewers should know that I have a list of questions here that you haven’t seen, that we got from the studio audience here and in Burbank before we left." 

"Really?" she said, obviously nervous. 

"Yes, really, though a few weren’t family friendly and some didn’t translate, so we had to throw those out," Ellen said, to the sounds of a disappointed audience. "A shame really. I’d like to know the answers to some of those myself." The audience yelled in agreement. "I’ve read as much as I could about what you’re doing here, and about you and your fellow aliens, but frankly, there isn’t much we do know. You’re all very mysterious." 

"Ellen, we’re not really that exciting as a group," Lady Memory said, a faint accent giving her answer a slightly exotic feel. 

"We’ll see," Ellen said, turning to the audience and mock whispering, "Wait till you hear some of these questions. The paper practically caught fire with some of them." The audience burst into laughter. 

"And they like my jokes," Ellen said to the camera. "Definitely looking into buying my own club down here." 

"So, first question. Explain this whole ambassador thing. We know you and someone else met with the president and spoke at the UN, but why are you specifically the one we see the most of? Why did yo meet with the president?" 

"I was railroaded," Lady Memory said, to laughter from the audience. "The explanation is simple. We have a leadership council, the Council of Nine. We all have our specific roles. The best description of mine is that I’m the equivalent of one of your old Welsh bards. I sing, I dance, tell jokes, and am in charge of all diplomatic efforts. So, meeting with your president is just part of my job." 

"What about the others? You said Council of Nine but as far as we know there are only the four of you," Ellen said. She turned to the audience. "Am I right? Four is less than nine, right?" The audience laughed in agreement. 

"You are correct. The rest of the Council will be joining us over the next few years as they are needed," Lady Memory said. "Right now we don’t need the entire Council present." 

"Is it true that there are no men in your society, your Clan?" Ellen said. "Are you Amazons? I know I wouldn't want to have to face one of your warriors." 

"Amazons?" Lady Memory asked. "You mean like your Wonder Woman? Or do you mean those women who scared your ancient Greeks?" 

"Wonder Woman came from an island of women," Ellen said. "Even with my belief in the inherent equality of genders, men do have their occasional uses. You must have a reason for being men free." 

"It’s a matter of history," Lady Memory said, nodding. "In our society, the men have always been the farmers, the builders and caretakers, and our women have been the fighters and leaders, which I believe is the not the norm for people on this planet. Right now we don’t need farmers or builders. We needed to fill the roles that we’ve found our women do much better. High stress jobs that require a large amount of communication. Warriors, Pilots, and so on. So what you see are our best people for those roles." 

Lady Memory answered a few more questions before Ellen found one that caused her to laugh. 

"Okay," Ellen said, flipping through her stack of cards. "Here’s a good one," she said. "Someone wants to know what’s going on between you and Lady Q." 

"I’m not sure where you came by that question, but Lady Q and I are just good friends," Lady Memory said, momentarily glaring off stage. "And that’s all I have to say on that topic." 

"We’ll get the real story from Lady Q tomorrow, right gang?" Ellen said to the cheers of her boisterous audience. 

* * *

"So, Lady Q, what is your role on the Council?" Ellen asked the scarily beautiful looking woman sitting across from her, perched on her chair like some kind of avenging angel. The interview was already off to a bad start, she thought, with her current guest’s refusal to play along with her happy intro dance. And her refusal to answer any remotely personal questions. 

"To put it simply, Ellen," she said, ice almost dripping from her voice, "I’m the one the others call in for the tough jobs. As the Hand of the Council, I’m in charge of our ground forces, something like your Marines. If you see one of our people in a hard suit here in the Zone, they most likely, with rare exception, work for me." 

"So, you mean all these?" Ellen asked, pointing at the screen behind them that was showing several groups of armored figures patrolling through a tough looking neighborhood. 

"Yes," Lady Q said. 

"Portia pointed out the other day that they look like they’re wearing armor from an old Japanese cartoon. Do you have to pay royalties?" 

"Royalties?" Lady Q asked, appearing puzzled. "Oh. Payment for using some being's creative idea? No, though one of our intelligence sources says that sales of these cartoons have gone up 300% since we arrived. I will admit that we did attempt to give our hard suits a friendlier appearance than our traditional armor, and while some of these cartoons might have influenced our suit designers, I would like to say that though our suits may look like they came from your cartoons, their capabilities are much different." 

"Like what?" Ellen asked. "Can they fly?" The scene on the screen changed to a cartoon with the armored characters leaping from building to building. 

"I would prefer not to reveal their capabilities," Lady Q said. 

"Do you think I could try one on?" Ellen asked eagerly. 

"You would have to make a request through our ambassador's office," Lady Q said. "But I’m sure some arrangement can be made to see if you qualify to wear one, though the fitting process can take up to a week." 

"I'll get right on that," Ellen said, frowning in obvious disappointment, before flipping through her cards for another question. 

"When we were out there, visiting a local market here in Cancun and one in the old city of Chichen Itza, which looks amazing by the way," she waved at the screen again where pictures of herself and Portia at the market and city appeared, escorted by several armor clad aliens. "It was so peaceful. Do you still need all that armor since you still have the shield up?" 

"It’s much safer than it was when we started," Lady Q agreed. "We’ve eliminated most of the known drug gangs, and expelled all foreign troops, but we’d rather be cautious and have the people feel secure, so we’re maintaining a heavy presence for now." 

"Foreign troops?" 

"The Mexican army was on maneuvers with a few foreign observers in the area," Lady Q said. "They were prepared to deal with a predicted apocalypse." 

"And you got rid of them?" Ellen said. 

"We sent them all home," Lady Q said. "Their presence was unnecessary." 

"Yeah, because, look, no apocalypse," Ellen said, laughing. 

"Exactly," Lady Q said with a straight face. 

* * *

"So, the two of you are apparently an item," Ellen said, sitting across from Lady Air and Lady Shadow. "I was told you could be here together or not at all." 

"Ellen, you’re hot for an old lady but my lady and I are a package deal," Lady Air said. 

"Well, I’ve got my own hottie," Ellen said with a smirk. "Though she does seem to prefer the beach to my show this week." 

"At least one of you has your priorities straight," Lady Air said. "If my girl was at the beach, I’d be there too." 

"That’s sweet, San," Lady Shadow said, leaning over to kiss her. 

"So what do the two of you do?" Ellen asked. 

"Each other," Lady Air said, in a low voice Ellen wasn’t sure she’d actually heard. 

"San is in charge of our fleet," Lady Shadow said. "If it flies, it’s hers." 

"Really? So if I want a ride in one of your space ships I need to talk with her first?" Ellen asked. 

"Yes, and if you’re lucky, she’ll fly it herself," Lady Shadow said. "She’s really good." 

"And you? Lady Shadow? What do you do?" 

"All sorts of things," Lady Shadow said. "I’m in charge of all the paperwork, making sure all the reports are filed with the right people. A fleet doesn’t travel on its stomach. It’s bureaucrats that make it go." 

"You do more than push paper around, babe," Lady Air said. "She’s our 'Big Brain'. There isn’t a plan she can’t make better just by reading it." 

"Wow," Ellen said. "Can I borrow her? Portia hates paperwork." 

"So, you’re going to join us at the beach this afternoon?" Lady Air asked. "Sea, sand, and beach babes. Just what the doctor ordered." 

"I might be persuaded," Ellen said. "Portia packed my favorite bikini." 

"That I have to see," Lady Air said, grinning. 

"My favorite bikini on her," Ellen said with a smirk, to loud laughter from the audience. 

"You're not allowed on the beach unless appropriately dressed," Lady Shadow said. "Or not, if you want to visit one of the local clothing optional beaches." 

"Maybe some other time," Ellen said, to audience laughter. "So, what's it like in space?" 

"Quiet. Really quiet," Lady Air said. "Sound doesn't travel very well in a vacuum." 

"You know, the two of you look very familiar," Ellen said after a brief moment of stunned silence. 

"I don't recall us meeting before," Lady Air said. "Either you or your lovely wife." 

"It'll come to me," Ellen said. "I've got a photographic memory but some of the photos are a bit foggy and scratched." 

"They say everyone has at least one double," Lady Shadow said. "I'm still looking for mine. I want to have words with her for pretending to be me." 

"Sort of like twins?" Lady Air asked her. "Or clones?" 

"Clones?" Ellen asked. "Is that why there are so many beautiful women running around here in your uniforms? You cloned them?" 

"We don’t do clones," Lady Shadow said. "It’s against our beliefs. And can cause all sorts of legal headaches." 

"Even aliens have lawyers?" Ellen asked. "I might need to change my mind about that comedy club franchise." The audience, a mix of alien women and stranded tourists laughed. 

* * *

"So, you’re the High Priestess of the Dragon Cult? The head of your religion?" Ellen asked the nervous young woman, a replacement since Lady Air and Lady Shadow had insisted on appearing together. "How did that happen?" 

"It’s an inherited position," Sophia said. 

"Ah, job security," Ellen said. "I had that once. So, what do you do?" 

"We celebrate the seasons. Communicate with our ancestors and gods," Sophia said. "Hold ceremonies in our ancient cities." 

"This whole apocalypse thing must have come as a surprise," Ellen said. "How do you feel about these aliens claiming your land for themselves?" 

"We are descended from their Clan," Sophia said. "It is still our land. They aren’t taking it away from us like the Spanish did. They are giving it back. Our people are very happy." 

"So they aren’t really aliens? They’re Mayan?" Ellen asked, looking surprised. 

"That is not how I would put it," Sophia said. "The original Clan intermarried with the local tribes and their descendants are among the Mayan peoples of the Yucatan." 

"Oh, that’s right. You wrote your dissertation about the spread of Mayan beliefs and people to other continents due to the Spanish invasion." 

"Yes," Sophia said. "Our diaspora. So many of our people were torn from their homes. We hope this may bring some of them home." 

"So, any famous celebrities with Mayan roots?" Ellen asked eagerly. 

"I cannot tell you. The records are almost non-existent," Sophia said. "Our gracious liberators have found a way to assist our efforts in identifying the children of our diaspora." 

"Really? How?" Ellen asked. 

"They used a term I am not familiar with," Sophia said. "We’ve lost so much of our original culture over the years. They have a way of checking a person’s ancestral origins but it will take time." 

"So, they could find out if I’m related to the Queen?" Ellen asked. 

"I do not know," Sophia said. "I believe their machines only work on Clan descendants. If you both have Clan ancestors, it might be possible. Since a large portion of the local Mayan families intermarried with Clan descendants, they believe they can detect who is Clan and who is not." 

"So, I can’t just walk up to the wall and say I’m related to one of them?" Ellen asked. "Darn! They aren’t going to let me buy that comedy club near the beach, are they." She exaggerated a pout for the benefit of her delighted audience. 

* * *

"So, you all have been delightful guests on my show," Ellen said to the five women sitting across from her and Portia. "I want to thank you for allowing us to spend the week here." 

Portia nodded, giving them a very faint smile. 

"Well, we have something for the two of you," Lady Memory said, standing up, gesturing to the two older women to stay seated. "We have rules about who will be able to live here, in the Yucatan, as we transform it into a modern Clan enclave. The children of the Mayan Diaspora will have an opportunity to request permission to live on their ancestral lands, though we would quickly run out of room if everyone who could moved back. 

Some of us wanted to kick the descendants of the Conquistadors off the lands their forefathers stole, but we discovered that less than ten percent of them hadn’t intermarried into one of the original Mayan families, so they were grandfathered in, as you might say. 

We don’t mind tourists spending their money with us, but we don’t plan to allow immigration except in extreme cases. We will have exceptions to these rules, so, if you can convince us we might allow you to open a small comedy club near one of our lovely beaches. Lady Shadow can help you with finding a location." 

"I appreciate the offer," Ellen said. "I’ll have to think of some suitable bribe. What’s your favorite dessert?" she asked, rubbing her hands together maniacally.  "None of us are that cheap," Lady Air told her. "It’s going to take more than some fluffy pastry for us to break the rules." 

"I don’t know babe," Lady Shadow said. "Maybe if she lets us borrow Lady Portia for a few days? And some of that wonderful chocolate mousse cheesecake from that awesome bakery we stopped at in that New York City place?" 

"We’d need a dozen," Lady Q said. "Of the cheesecakes," she quickly added. "We know your Portia is unique." 

"I don’t share," Ellen said, shaking her head. "I’ll get you a truckload of the cheesecake, but Portia stays with me." 

"As delightful as her presence has been this week," Lady Memory said, "they’re just kidding. We would welcome Portia’s presence but it isn’t a requirement. And she needs no bribes." 

"So, my wife is welcome to stay, but I’m not?" Ellen said, pouting. 

"As long as she vouches for you, I suppose we can let you stay," Lady Air said. "Of course, since her grandmother was a childhood friend of Sophia’s grandmother and she’s been pinging our Clan radar all week she doesn’t even have to ask." 

"Did you hear that babe?" Ellen asked. "You’re pinging!" Blushing, Portia just shook her head. 

* * *

They watched the last audience member leave, after getting both Ellen and Portia to sign one of her breasts. 

"You need to keep your people under better control Rach," Santana said in a low voice, watching one of her more rambunctious engineers leaving. 

"My people? She works for you!" Rachel grumbled. 

"It was probably a dare," Quinn said. "It’s like a frat house up there some times." 

"You’re one to speak, oh wondrous Lady Q. That XO of yours convinced one of my pilots to take her up to ninety thousand so she could get some jump time in. On a Saturday night." 

"Ladies!" Brittany said loudly. "We are not alone." 

"Sorry," they all chorused, their voices blending together. Ellen and Portia watched in bemusement. 

"Is it true," Ellen asked her wife. "Is that why you wanted to stay home?" 

Portia nodded. "Nana always talked about what a wonderful place this was. I didn’t want that memory to be ruined." 

"The two of you are staying for a few more days?" Brittany asked. 

"Yes," Ellen said. "This one got to work on her tan, which she didn’t need, all week long. So, we’re going exploring." 

"Okay, though let us know before you leave your hotel and we’ll provide you with escorts." 

"I’m sure things will be fine," Ellen said. "Everyone we’ve met has been lovely." 

"Because we’ve had someone nearby all the time," Brittany said. "Would you like to come to a party tomorrow? There are some people I think you might like to talk to. And we’ll spill some secrets, though you can’t tell anyone else." 

"We’ll have to see," Ellen said. "I’m not the keeper of our itinerary anymore." 

"Has she said yes," Santana asked, wrapping an arm around Brittany’s waist and nodding at Portia. 

"Not yet," Brittany grumbled. 

"You have to come," Santana told the two older women. "Short stuff’s parents will be there. They’re huge fans." 

"And Q’s sister. She’s got some really funny stories from when Q was little. You wouldn’t believe some of the things she got into," Brittany said. "Please?" 

"No one says no to my B," Santana said. 

"I did," Rachel said. 

"And what happened?" Santana said, smirking. 

"Oh, right," Rachel said. "Wouldn’t want that to happen again." 

"We’ll pick you up at your beach hut and bring you to the party," Brittany said. "And it’ll be a night to remember. In a good way. Casual dress, though Portia in that cute little red bikini from the other day would be a big hit." 

"Alright," Ellen said. "We’ll come to your party."


	3. Cruising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Important Note:** Still not really Ellen and Portia.  
>  **Word Count:** 5,429 ( 3 of 9 )  
> 

"How much are we going to tell them?" Quinn asked warily, as they approached the beach house Ellen and Portia had been staying in. 

"I say we trust them," Brittany said. "At some point they are going to recognize us. I’d like to do it on my own terms. Especially since Ellen did that special on gay teens and featured San and myself in it." 

"That was a horrible special," Rachel said. "Not one of Ellen’s finest moments, though she obviously meant well." 

"And she’s donated a lot of money over the years since then to support programs for lost teens," Brittany said. "She’s tried to make up for that." 

"It’s not like we want her to tell the world our real story - the true lives of the baddest people to every walk the halls of McKinley," Santana said. 

"I’m going to tell them our story," Rachel said, nodding to herself. 

"Of course," Santana said. "There was never any doubt. This is just the kind of story you hobbit people like to write down." 

"I’m not a hobbit," Rachel protested. 

"You’re way cuter," Brittany said, just before reaching for the doorbell. 

"May we come in?" Rachel asked, when Portia appeared at the door. 

"Of course," she said, stepping back. 

"We thought we should explain a few things before going to the party," Rachel said. "It’ll only take a minute." 

"Have a seat, I’ll get Ellen," Portia said. 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Quinn asked her quietly. Rachel just nodded. 

From her position on a chair, Brittany perched on her lap, Santana watched the other two. "Are you sure something isn’t happening there?" she asked Brittany in a low voice. "It’s like watching the slowest case of UST in history." 

"You’re being silly," Brittany said. "Of course there’s something there. It just needs time to blossom." 

"Right. Rachel and Quinn. The slowest romantics on the planet. How could I have forgotten." She rolled her eyes. 

"You wanted to talk?" Ellen asked, joining them in the room. 

"There are going to be people at this party who know things that you might not be aware of," Rachel said. "We thought it best if we tell you ourselves, though we do expect you to keep this a secret." 

"So, you’re not really aliens and are from Hoboken, New Jersey?" Ellen said, jokingly. 

"I’m not sure why anyone would claim Hoboken as a home," Santana said. "It’s a dump." 

"You’ve never been to Hoboken," Quinn said, in a loud whisper. 

"It’s still a dump," Santana whispered back. 

"Hush!" Brittany said, poking both of them. "You’re ruining Rach’s thing." 

"Well, some of us are more alien than others," Rachel said, after glaring at Quinn and Santana. "The Lady Shadow really is an alien. Her family is from another part of the galaxy. You might recognize her by her Earth name - 'Brittany'. 

"I do have an official Clan name but it's a bit silly in English, so I don’t use it," Brittany said. "I actually grew up in Ohio." 

"We all did," Rachel said. 

"Ohio?" Ellen said, looking at them, puzzled. 

"Yeah, that’s the big secret," Santana said, using air quotes. "We’re all from Lima, Ohio," she said. 

"I did tell you we’d seen some of them before," Portia said. "You’re Brittany Pierce, and you’re Santana Lopez," she said pointing at them in turn. 

"That’s right Cuz," Santana said. "The poor little teen gay-bees your lovely wife screwed over with that TV special." 

"I didn’t mean to," Ellen said nervously. "I really didn't." 

"Rural white bread Ohio, and sensitivity for the different? Not happening," Santana said. "Someone should have told you before you even tried that it was a humongously bad idea. No matter how good your intentions were." 

"Cuz?" Portia said faintly. 

"We share great-grandmothers," Santana said, with a faint smile. "And you’ll meet a few other cousins at the party." 

"Oh," Portia said, leaning back against Ellen. 

"So, the real reason you were picked to introduce us to the world? You’re sort of family," Brittany said. "Otherwise, San wouldn’t have let you within a thousand miles of here, especially after that horrible TV show." 

"And Short Stuff over there, and her fathers, are huge fans," Santana said. 

"Rachel Berry," Rachel said with a small,wave, "and that's Quinn Fabray." Quinn nodded at them. 

"Explain this Ohio alien thing to us," Ellen said, in an obvious attempt to change the subject. 

"It’s simple," Quinn said, speaking to them for the first time. "We’re all part of the so-called Mayan Diaspora. We weren’t actually kidnapped." 

"Depends on your definition of kidnapping," Santana grumbled. "We all agree, now, that it was necessary but we weren’t given a choice. And you’re the one with the most reasons to be angry by that. We know you haven’t forgotten the 'extra special' treatment." 

"It doesn’t matter anymore," Quinn said, before turning back to Ellen and Portia. "We were on our way home, in a snow storm. The aliens were looking for people with Clan blood and they found us. Stuck us in a time bubble, gave us some training, taught us their language, and hired us to do a job." 

"And it’s a doozy," Brittany said. "The thirteen Clans are like cops for the galaxy, and there’s supposed to be a station house in our neighborhood, run by one of the Clans. The Mayan people of the Yucatan are descendants of those alien cops. The aliens in charge of this corner of the galaxy hired us, as descendants of the original Clan, to do the job they were supposed to do before they disappeared. We discussed it and decided to involve the other descendants of that lost Clan. It’s gonna take a few years but we think it’s gonna be worth it. All the new Clans people will have ties to both this planet and the Clans. It’s going to be a great combination." 

"And thus speaks the Lady of the Shadows, she who plans and schemes and makes the rest of us look like amateurs," Santana said proudly. "Bad guys of the galaxy beware!" 

"Time bubble?" Ellen asked. "A time warp? Like on Star Trek?" 

"You can think of it that way," Quinn said. "It’s how they crammed a decade worth of learning and experience into us so fast." 

"You do look older than I expected," Ellen said, looking at all of them. "Mid twenties, instead of late teens. Looking in the mirror must be very strange." 

"It wasn’t instant," Brittany said, shaking her head. "We didn’t wake up older, we grew into our now-selves." 

"And all that time we spent learning we were steeped in Clan culture. So we’re different. We may have been born on this planet but the way we think is more Clan than native now. We think in Clan speak. We eat Clan foods. We dress like Clan. Sure, Earth is still home but we fit better with our Clan than any of us ever will again in Lima. So, aliens, at least in spirit," Rachel said, pointing at the others. "And, in a few minutes you’ll get to meet our families. Some of whom I expect you’ll have already met." 

"You said this was a secret," Ellen said. "How many people know you started in small town Ohio?" 

"Our people, of course," Rachel said. "I believe in full disclosure among family. A few others do. Santana’s parents, and several cousins; Brittany’s guardians; My Dads and my Mom; Quinn’s sister. I don’t think her parents know yet." 

"Not a chance," Quinn said. Brittany coughed loudly. "Brittany? Something you need to share?" 

"Your mother might know, after we rescued her from that last little kidnapping attempt. Your father is too busy waiting for the Apocalypse to have figured it out." 

"We already had the Apocalypse," Ellen said quickly. "Right?" 

"Just the local one, which wasn’t really an apocalypse but a prediction that the lost Clan, or their Mayan descendants, would return to where they came from. It was slightly accurate," Rachel said, shrugging. 

"My father… he’s a Bible literalist, American style," Quinn said, grimacing. "He’s shacked up with some people just like him in Israel waiting for the Rapture. They don’t believe our little land grab is the Apocalypse, but just a sign of things to come." 

"I’m thinking of getting a '666' tattoo," Santana said, smirking. "Right here." She tapped her forehead above her left eyebrow. "Then they’ll really believe us." 

"San, you’re not getting a tattoo like that," Brittany said, disapprovingly. "It’s hard enough to get some people to take us seriously." 

"People don’t take you seriously?" Ellen asked. "You have all that fancy armor, and space ships! Spaceships aren’t serious?" 

"They won’t until we prove to them that we mean business," Quinn said. "Which should be any day now." 

"Quinn’s been busy kicking over ant hills," Brittany said excitedly. "Should be in the news any day now. But that has nothing to do with the party. So we should get going." They all stood up and headed to the door. 

* * *

"So, you’re going to move down here and hang out with your alien family?" Ellen asked Portia as they walked down the beach. "You can buy that comedy club, and I’ll be your favorite act." 

"For private performances," Portia said, smiling, leaning over to kiss her cheek. 

"Ugh! Old people sex," Santana said, from behind them. 

"How did they decide who would do what job?" Portia asked, ignoring her. "How did these aliens know that Quinn here should be your general and that Santana would be the best person to put in charge of your space fleet?" 

"And how did they pick Rachel as the person to be their bard?" Ellen asked. "And why a bard? Why not something else?" 

"Rachel was already half way there," Quinn said. "If you’ve ever heard her singing, you’d understand why. Brittany was already learning the kinds of things her job requires. Her parents were explorers, from one of the other Clans. She knows way more languages than anyone I’ve heard of outside of a TV show and she makes James Bond look like an amateur with her sneaky ninja skills." 

Rachel started humming. "Look at what you started," Santana said to Quinn, disgustedly. "She’s gonna start singing and we’re going to be in the middle of a half-baked Disney musical." 

"I don’t know why they picked Santana and myself," Quinn said, ignoring her and replying to Portia. 

"Yes, you do," Brittany said. "You both have that undefinable command presence, but in slightly different ways. Santana’s way makes her an excellent leader of the kinds of people who make great spacers. Quinn has a knack for that up close and personal touch. She’s one of the best troop leaders the Clans have seen in a millennium. She can reach right into a situation, and before anyone else can react, find the best outcome." 

"You really do think in alien terms," Ellen said, surprised. 

"If, by alien, you mean we take care of our people and care about the results of our actions? That actions have consequences? Then yes," Rachel said, pausing her humming for a second, "I suspect you can claim we are alien." 

"Strictly speaking, all members of the thirteen clans are alien," Brittany said. "It’s just a coincidence that we look like natives of this planet and can interbreed." 

"Wouldn’t someone notice?" Portia asked, quickly covering Ellen’s mouth with her hand to keep her from making the obvious comment. 

"The differences are subtle," Brittany said. "Current Earth bio-tech can’t pick it out." 

"But yours can," Portia said. 

"Yup!" Brittany said brightly. "Oops, gotta go." Without explaining, Brittany grabbed Santana’s hand and dragged her away at a much faster pace. 

"She’s certainly unique," Ellen said, watching them disappear into the trees. 

"She’s full blooded Clan," Rachel said. "And her guardians made sure she had a traditional Clan education. Which means the US educational system was baffled by her." 

"Coach always understood her," Quinn said. "And Santana, of course." 

"Some times, I suspect Coach Sylvester is also an alien," Rachel said. "Though I haven’t quite decided which Clan she belongs to." 

"One of the crazier ones," Quinn said, with a laugh. 

* * *

"So, this is what aliens eat when they have a cook-out," Ellen said, having wandered over to the cooking pit. From the collection of vegetables roasting on several large grills, it looked like the aliens were plant eaters. She wondered if it was a cultural thing. 

"This is what the Lady Rachel eats," the tall blonde cook, wearing an apron with a series of Mayan-looking hieroglyphs on it, said. "We honor her dietary beliefs. For those who prefer animal protein, like the Ladies Q and Air, we have another cooking area." She pointed towards a series of grills several hundred feet away. 

"Oh," Ellen said. "I suspect we’ll be eating both. Portia prefers eating things that weren’t cute and cuddly before becoming food." 

"You’ll want to keep her away from my sister then," a delicate looking blonde said, joining her at the grill. 

"Your sister’s Lady Q?" Ellen asked. 

"I just call her Quinn, or Quinnie when she’s being obnoxious," the other woman said, whose name, if she remembered it correctly, was Frannie. "But not near her fan club." 

"She has a fan club?" Ellen turned to look at Quinn who was in a deep discussion with one of the men who’d been identified as one of Rachel’s fathers. She hadn’t had a chance to talk with either of Rachel’s fathers, though she vaguely remembered them as part of a group that had objected, rightly so in hind sight, to her TV special. She suspected she would have to go apologize to them before leaving. 

"They all do," Frannie said. "Though Quinn is the only one who has fans who aren’t part of their Clan. A bunch of nerds were stranded here while at an anime convention. That armor of hers and her troopers is right out of a nerds wet dreams." 

"It is amazing looking," Ellen said. "I tried to get my own but she wouldn’t go for it. Said it would take too long." 

"You have to be Clan with a few enhancements for it to work," Frannie said, sighing. "I’d like my own also, though I wasn’t a fan of the anime series she borrowed the designs from. She was a closet nerd before she became a cheerleader. I don’t qualify either, and I have the same Clan ancestors as she does." 

"I was wondering about that," Ellen said. "Rachel and Santana look like they could have Mayan ancestors but Quinn doesn’t." 

"Santana is half Mayan," Frannie said. "Her mother and her cousin Sophia are full blooded Mayans. Rachel had a real Mayan princess as an ancestor, and the less said about how Clan DNA got into Quinn and myself, and our mother’s family, the better." 

"Sorry," Ellen said. "Didn’t realize it was a sensitive subject." 

"Only if you’re Santana," Frannie said, shaking her head. "She’s not a fan of the Conquistadors." 

"Isn’t that really what they are doing?" Ellen asked. "They’ve landed on our shores with their fancy things and are taking it from the natives in exchange for beads and blankets. Metaphorically speaking." 

"No," Frannie said. "Unlike the Conquistadors, the Clan have ethics. Unless a disaster happens, we’ll be better off when they are done, not the opposite." 

"Oh," Ellen said, hoping she hadn’t put her foot in it again. Where was her wife when she needed help? Looking around, she could see her talking with Rachel and a similar looking older woman. 

"Have you met Rachel’s mother yet?" Frannie asked, after giving her a few minutes to think. 

"No, I haven’t," Ellen said. 

"You’ll like her," Frannie said. "I’m probably biased but Shelby’s an amazing person. Come along." 

* * *

"So, what’s the verdict?" Santana said, plopping down onto a large pillow in their joint lounge. 

"I like both of them," Rachel said. 

"No surprise," Santana grumbled. "Q?" 

"I think Ellen is lucky she has Portia," Quinn said. "She’s fairly intelligent but she tends to speak before she thinks." 

Brittany nodded. "She’s Ellen’s me," she said. 

"I’m not like Ellen," Santana protested. 

"You’re occasionally impulsive," Brittany said. "Just like her. If you didn’t have me you’d be in serious trouble." 

"Duh," Santana said. "But did Ellen’s visit serve its’ purpose? Besides adding to my confusing family tree and making Sophia happy." 

 "I believe so," Rachel said. "After our appearances on her show, we should be more approachable. Not so scary for the ordinary person." 

"We’ll know soon," Brittany said. "But it’ll take a few years before people see us and ours and don’t automatically say 'alien'." 

"And then we spring the next part of our plan on them?" 

"Probably sooner," Brittany said. "We need to start building infrastructure in other places." 

"Need a backup planet-side base for my flyers," Santana said. "Somewhere in Australia or Mongolia." 

"But first the Yucatan," Quinn reminded them. "We have a long way to go before it is what we plan it to be, right Artie?" 

"Yes, Lady Quinn. You’ve really only begun the process." 

"Are we ready to lower the shield?" Santana said. "And open the floodgates?" 

"Not yet," Brittany said. "But we can end the communication blackout as planned. And the cruise lines are asking for permission to allow their ships to doc at Cancun again." 

"So, turn off the blackout and let those tourist dollars come in, in small doses?" Santana said. 

"Yes, San." 

"Yes." 

"Definitely," Rachel added. 

"I believe that we’re ready for the next phase, Lady Air," Artie said. 

"Go for it." 

"Go for it? And you call me lame?" Quinn muttered. 

"You are," Santana said. 

"No, you are," Quinn said, throwing a pillow at Santana. 

"They’re never going to grow up," Rachel said to Brittany, watching the ensuing pillow fight. 

"I know, right?" Brittany said, sighing. "Good thing we’re the ones really in charge." 

"Yup," Rachel said, nodding. 

* * *

Kurt yawned, trying to keep his eyes open as they waited for their bus to the hotel. It had been a long couple days to get to this point. In the morning they would all get on another bus and head down to the cruise ship that would take them to Cancun. It was billed as an exotic trip to alien lands, and had filled up fairly quickly. If it hadn’t been for Artie’s network connections they wouldn’t have gotten tickets this soon after the aliens had started allowing a slow trickle of hand picked tour groups to visit their enclave. 

"I’ve been doing some research," Artie said, looking up from his tablet. "These so-called aliens have mostly stayed out of the public eye." 

"They were on Ellen," Mercedes said in protest. "They were personally interviewed by her." 

"And that is the only time they’ve spoken to anyone who isn’t a government official. Several of them, the two who look like Rachel Berry and Brittany Pierce, have met with the president and spoke to the UN. The other two, who look like an older Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez, have only appeared on Ellen." 

"Maybe they’re clones?" Puck said, taking a sip from a large bottle of water. "I bet it’s all done with make-up. Don’t clones have all sort of issues? Like they dissolve if you spray them with soda?" 

"That was 'synthodrones' on Kim Possible, not clones," Artie said, shaking his head. 

"Drones, clones, same diff," Puck said. "I bet they only look human from a distance. They probably have Rachel and the three Cheerios frozen on their space ship somewhere." 

"That’s what we’re here to find out," Artie said. 

"So, Mr. Alien Hunter, what’s the plan?" Mercedes asked. 

"Enjoy the cruise until we get there," Artie said. "and then we track them down. It shouldn’t be hard to prove if they’re who we think they are. Then my crew and I do some filming, hopefully of them in action, and we go home. Kurt and Mercedes write up their story for their favorite gossip mags, I post my version on my Tube channel. We do the rounds of the talk shows. Profit." 

"And Puck and Finn? What are you two getting out of it?" 

"I just want my girlfriend back," Finn said, nervously playing with his sunglasses. 

"You broke up with both of them before they were kidnapped," Kurt said irritably. "If it is them, they probably don’t even remember that little part of their Lima life." 

"If it’s them, we rescue them and take them home to their families," Puck said. 

"Rachel’s dads are out of town. Some vacation they won," Artie said. "Brittany’s parents disappeared several years ago, and Santana’s family is also out of town." 

"And Quinn?" Kurt asked, curious about the extent of Artie’s knowledge. 

"Her parents moved to Israel." 

"So, Puck, now what?" 

"It’ll give us time to deprogram them," he said. "They’ve obviously been brainwashed." 

"I did discover a curious thing," Artie said. "Coach Sylvester quit her job. No one knows where she went but her helpers wore uniforms like the aliens." 

"So, the aliens have called her home to their mothership," Puck said. "No surprise there." 

"Where did you hear this?" Kurt asked. 

"Assorted sources," Artie said. "Have you seen this?" he said, going for a distraction. Kurt wasn’t fooled. "A couple otaku were at a convention in Cancun and got these shots of the aliens in their armor." 

"Okay," Kurt said, looking closely. "They have spacesuits. Big whoop." 

"Those are so cool," Puck said, also looking. "Like out of a cartoon." 

"Very anime-ish," Artie said. "That’s proof one of them is Quinn." 

"The bitchy blonde hair is a clue also," Mercedes said. 

"That’s not what I meant," Artie said. "That design is right out of Quinn’s favorite show." 

"Quinn was a cheerleader," Mercedes said. "She didn’t watch cartoons." 

"She did in grade school," Artie said. "Before she joined the Cheerios she was a huge Bubble Gum Crisis fan. I bet she knew every line of dialog." 

"Why don’t the rest of us know that," Kurt said. 

"I did," Finn mumbled. "She brought in some pictures she drew for show-n-tell in fourth grade. She still had the DVDs." 

"How’d you know that?" Puck said. "She wasn’t allowed to have boys in the house." 

"After she disappeared, her parents had a garage sale of all her stuff," Finn said. "I got some cool stuff. Some Iron Man comics and those DVDs. You don’t think she’ll want them back, do you?" 

"Even if she did, she wouldn't admit it," Kurt said. "Doesn’t fit the Cheerio image. Except for Brittany. She read Archie comics in class all the time." 

"Brittany was a weird girl," Mercedes said. "And there’s our bus," she added, standing up. 

* * *

"Are we there yet?" Kurt asked, feeling queasy. Next time he was flying or driving. No more cruise ships for him. 

"We’re docking tomorrow morning," Mercedes said, looking down at her itinerary. "We’re gonna be in Cancun for three days. That’s plenty of time to find them and do some sight seeing." 

"What do you think will really happen if we run into them?" 

"Well, they can’t throw us in jail for saying hi," she said. "But I think they’ll be too busy to even notice us." 

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, nervously gulping to keep breakfast down. 

"Have you noticed anything strange about the other passengers on this boat?" 

"Ship," Kurt automatically corrected her. "No…" 

"I think we’re on a boat full of spies and government types," Mercedes said. "They all have that look about them." 

"Not all of them," Kurt said, pointing at a group of women sunbathing over by the pool. "They don’t look very governmentish." 

"Really?" Mercedes said. "What do you want to bet they are spies." 

"How do we prove that?" Kurt asked, his voice trailing off as he watched Mercedes go over to them. Shaking his head he quickly followed. Sometimes, Mercedes could be as single minded as Rachel Berry. 

"Hey ladies," Mercedes said, in her friendliest voice. They all nodded in return. "My friend and I," she turned to find Kurt right behind her, "have a small bet going. I was hoping you could help." 

"Sure, go ahead," said the oldest looking member of the group who was also the most elegant looking, though Kurt wasn’t sure why that was since she wasn’t dressed in anything recognizably fashionable, to his eyes. 

"Well, we’ve noticed that most of the passengers on this ship," she glanced at Kurt, "really don’t seem like the cruise type. They look like they don’t get out in the sun often or don’t talk to people very much. And most of them haven’t gone on any of the excursions. We think they’re spies. What do you think?" 

"Very badly trained spies," one of the other women said, causing the others to burst into giggles. 

"Analysts or decoys for the real thing," said another. "Real spies wouldn’t pick such an obvious way to sneak into the country." 

"That makes sense," Mercedes said. "But what about you? Isn’t your behavior perfect spy behavior? No one would ever think you could be spies." 

"Although you do have a point," the first woman said, "how would you prove it Miss Jones and Mr. Hummel?" 

"I never told you our names?" Mercedes said, while Kurt gasped. 

"No?" the woman said. "There are many ways we could have found out who you are," she said. "We could be, as you suggested, spies. Or we could have other reasons to be aware of your presence on this ship with the famous Alien Hunter Artie Abrams. But I’m sure you have no interest in knowing what those reasons are." 

"But…" Mercedes said, before Kurt stopped her with a shake of his head. 

"Thank you ladies for your time," he said. "We’ll be going now." Forcibly turning Mercedes around he guided her down towards the nearest ship's bar. 

"Kurt!" Mercedes protested, accepting the glass he handed her. 

"You proved your point," he said. "Do you really want to keep poking them until they do something? I’d like to make it home, not disappear because you cheesed off the wrong person." 

"No," Mercedes said, taking a big gulp from her glass. "They know who we are!" 

"They know we’re with Artie's crew," Kurt said. "They’ll probably be watching us the whole time to see if we lead them right to Rachel." 

"We can’t do that," Mercedes said. "We just want to make sure they’re okay, not out them to the Men In Black." 

"There are no 'Men In Black’", Kurt said. "If there are, they aren’t very good at keeping secrets." 

"That’s how they work," Mercedes said. "They make you think they couldn’t possibly be that obvious and then they point that flashy thing in your face and you forget your own name." 

"Let’s go find Artie," Kurt said, getting off his bar stool. "He should know about this." 

"He won’t care," she said. "Except write it into the script for the show he’s doing on this trip." 

* * *

"Hey! Look at the babes," Puck said, pointing at the women on the other side of the pool. "Didn’t know M swung that way," he added as they watched Kurt lead Mercedes away from them. "Looks like she got shot down." 

"She probably noticed that most of the people on this ship are decoys and decided to check out the wringers," Artie said. 

"Wringers?" Finn looked up from the game he was playing on his phone. 

"Fakes. Distractions," Artie said. "Most of the people on this cruise ship are spies or pretend spies." 

"Pretend spies?" Puck asked. 

"According to my sources, half the people on the ship are meant to confuse the aliens when we get to Cancun. While they try to figure out who’s a real spy and who’s faking it, the real ones will sneak in. Distractions. And that’s why we were able to get tickets. They wanted some real people on the ship." 

"What about the babes Mercedes was talking to?" Puck asked. 

"The odds are pretty high that they are the only real spies on board," Artie said. "Probably for some American three letter agency. Or the Russians. The Chinese already have a listening post in the Yucatan." 

"Three letter agency?" Kurt asked, as he and Mercedes joined them. 

"CIA, NSA, MIB, that kind of thing," Artie said. "Fortunately, that won’t have any affect on our plans. We’re not interested in stealing any alien tech or stopping their plans or anything." 

"As long as the aliens know this," Kurt mumbled. 

"They were able to sneak in, set up their equipment, and take over several million acres of Mexico, and no one saw them coming," Artie said. "I’m sure they know exactly who their friends are. And that’s real proof, if it is Rachel Berry or Brittany Pierce or the others, that they’re just alien figureheads. No way they’d have the experience to pull something like this off." 

"I wouldn’t underestimate Quinn Fabray," Kurt said. "Sylvester didn’t pick her to be head Cheerio because of her hair color." 

"Not buying it," Puck muttered. "Q and Satan were small time high school. Rachel was the one with the balls to try to take over the world. The aliens probably heard her sing and put her in charge. If that’s them, I mean. That's what I would do." 

Kurt looked at Mercedes and shook his head. He was just hoping for closure. He wanted to know what happened to Rachel Berry all those years ago. Making money from this adventure was just a bonus. 

* * *

"That was mildly amusing," Schultz said in a low voice. "Did we get a recording of that for Lady Shadow?" 

"Of course," Tex murmured. "And we’re picking up the Artie Abrams conversation. Someone’s clued him in about this ship being a decoy. Or he’s not who he claims to be. And they think the Four are just alien puppets." 

"I’d like to be there when they find out the truth," April said, leaning forward to sip her drink. "If they don’t get buried in a dark hole for the next few years." 

"The Ladies don’t do that kind of thing," Schultz said. 

"Unless you insult Lady Shadow or Lady Rachel in the other’s hearing," Tex said. "I don’t think the recording of Abrams and the others for this trip are going to gain them any fans." 

"Lady Rachel did say that their Glee teammates weren’t exactly friends," Schultz said. "I don’t think they’ll be surprised by any of it." 

"I don’t know why anyone is fooled by all this?" Peaches said, rolling over and waving at the spy rejects watching them from a distance. "More lotion please, Betty," she said imperiously. 

"I’m not your personal masseuse," Betty grumbled, leaning over with a bottle of tanning lotion. 

"It’s so cute you think so," Peaches said, sighing as Betty rubbed the lotion into her shoulders. 

"Ladies, we’re not here to get a tan," Schultz said. "We’re here to keep a lid on this ship of spy fools. And, pass your suspicions about Abrams to the Shadows. If he’s in the business it’s buried deeper than we can dig." 

"Yes, boss," Tex said. 

"Is there anyone else suspicious, beyond the obvious cannon fodder," Schultz asked the others. 

"Some of these guys look like they still live in their mother’s basement," Jess said. "Or like that guy on that old show about geek scientists. If you want to have some fun, Tex, just walk by them in your little green number." 

"Let’s save the games for the beach," Schultz said. 

"But Schultzie!" Tex whined. 

"We're not on vacation," she reminded them. "Don't forget who we work for." 

"Lady Shadow wouldn't care," Tex said, pouting. "She'd think it was a great idea!" 

"And how many of these guys are watching us to see if we've gone native?" she asked. 

"Five," Peaches said. "It was in the pre-op briefing packet from the Shadows." 

"That many?" Betty said. 

"The President sent his favorite former aide to keep them out of our hair," Schultz said. "She's also going to assess our embassy in Cancun." 

"The Ambassador isn’t going to like that," Tex said, laughing. 

"Couldn’t happen to a nicer stooge," Jess added, smirking. 

"Ladies, he’s one of us," Schultz said. "Go easy on the sarcasm in public." 

"Yes Boss," they all chorused, before bursting into laughter.


	4. Stage Directions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 6,209 ( 4 of 9 )  
> 

Kurt looked around at the other passengers. It was the last Captain’s Dinner before they docked in Cancun, and attendance had been declared mandatory for all passengers, going ashore or not. There were people at tables he hadn’t seen since the first Captain’s Dinner a week ago. 

"What do you think is going on?" Mercedes asked, taking a sip from her wine glass. They seemed to be waiting for something before dinner was served. 

Kurt shrugged. They couldn’t ask Artie, who seemed to know everything. He was sitting at the Captain’s table, one of the few semi-celebrities on board. Finn and Puck were at another table across the room. There was the sound of a horn and the captain stood up. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, tomorrow begins our first day back in Cancun after the arrival of the Clan of the Dragon. They have graciously allowed us to resume our visits to the area but their representatives wish to say a few things before we dock tomorrow. Afterward, we will continue with the meal our excellent chefs have prepared for us." As he sat down, the lights dimmed in all parts of the dinning room, except in front of the small stage normally used for dinner entertainment. 

"Welcome to Cancun, the gateway to the protectorate of the Dragon Clan of the Pan-Galactic Confederation," a woman’s voice said. Kurt gasped involuntarily as she appeared, dressed in a dark Armani suit. It was the woman Mercedes had faced by the pool that afternoon. "I am Lady Black, the US Emissary, on special assignment, to the Clan of the Dragon. All official communication to Clan authorities is through myself and my associates. If you must contact an embassy in the local area, for any reason involving Clan related persons, they will contact us for assistance. 

You are all guests of the Dragon Clan and are expected to behave as guests. Anyone who does not will be returned to the ship, or if the misbehavior involves breaking any local laws, the perpetrators will be handed over to the local authorities. 

And so that you can’t claim mistaken identity, I’ve brought several members of the Clan for you to meet." 

"Oh my God!" Mercedes said, "I called her a spy this afternoon!" 

"Still might be," Kurt murmured. "She just might be a very important one. I’d suggest staying away from her until she forgets you." 

"Is that who I think it is?" Mercedes asked, drawing his attention back to the stage. 

"Umm..." Kurt could only stare. 

"We thought it would be helpful if you all could identify the Clan members you may run into during your time in the Yucatan," Lady Black continued. "For those of you who might consider misbehaving, Lady Sylvester, our host’s Director of LandSec has graciously honored us with her presence." A red and black clad Sue Sylvester stepped forward. Another figure, dressed in light armor in the same colors appeared next to her. "She and her officers enforce the laws of the Clan in the protectorate as impartially as possible. If you see anyone in this uniform, you are expected to follow their directions for your own safety. Thank you, Director." Not speaking, Sue nodded and she and her officer left the stage. 

"We also have several members of the Clan Ground Forces and Fleet with us for identification purposes," Lady Black said. "If you see anyone in any of these uniforms, please do not bother them. If they are wearing their uniforms they are on official business. Although they are quite able to defend themselves, the paperwork involved if you attempt to interfere or assist gives new meaning to the word headache." Two tall women in distinctive uniforms of different colors stepped forward and nodded to the passengers. 

"And lastly, we are honored to have the Hand of the Clan Council of Nine with us. For those who have not yet read the materials provided when you entered the dining room this evening, the Lady of the Hand is the Clan’s War Leader. Lady Sylvester reports to her. If you see armor like hers it is best to get as far away as possible." 

"Always good advice," the Lady of the Hand said, after lowering her helmet. From her faint accent it appeared that English was not her native language. "We try our best to avoid collateral damage but the ones who go out of their way to test our abilities rarely bother. Also, a word to the wise. We do not tolerate addictive drugs and drug dealers in our territory. The pamphlets you were given earlier contain a list of acceptable mind altering substances that may be purchased legally in our territory and where." Nodding, she closed her helmet and disappeared back into the shadows. 

"If you have any questions, you received appropriate phone numbers and urls in your information packets," Lady Black said after a brief silence. "Enjoy your dinner and your visit to the Yucatan." 

"And her!" Kurt said, leaning forward. "It didn’t sound like our Quinn Fabray but that was her face!" 

"Right? That just means Satan is missing," Mercedes said. "And if Coach Sylvester is here, I bet she’s here somewhere." 

"Sue Sylvester in charge of the police? That’s almost as scary as Quinn being in charge of an army," Kurt said. Some feeling in the air, or possibly Mercedes’ wide-eyed look behind him, had him turning around, to find a grim faced Sue Sylvester standing next to their table. 

"I’m not fooled by your baby face, Porcelain," Sue said, "or by your friends. I’ll be watching you closely. So, stay out of trouble." 

"Yes, Coach!" they both said, shrinking down into their seats. 

"I need a drink," Kurt said, after she stepped away into the surrounding shadows. 

"Me too," Mercedes said, gulping down what was left in her glass. "That woman gets scarier by the year. So, what are we going to do?" 

"I think we’re going to enjoy the beach, and let Artie do his own thing," he said. "And then go home and forget we ever came here." 

"You don’t want to find Rachel?" 

"If we run into her, I won’t complain," Kurt said, nodding thanks at the waitress putting a plate on the table in front of him. "I don’t think we thought this through completely." 

"Coach Sylvester and Stepford Quinn were a bit of a shock," Mercedes murmured, sawing away at the thick steak on her plate. "Let’s spend tomorrow at the beach and then check out some ruins and Mayan culture the day after." 

"Sounds like a plan," Kurt said, waving over a hovering waitress to refill his wineglass. 

* * *

"So, do you think Sue Sylvester has cloned Quinn and the others and is running some sort of scam?" Artie asked, joining the others on the dock. 

"Possible," Mercedes said, nodding. "It looked like Quinn’s face but didn’t sound at all like her." 

"So, where are you all off to this morning?" Artie asked. 

"Beach," Kurt said. 

"Beach," Mercedes added. 

"Checking out some ruins," Puck said. "And some babes at the beach this afternoon." 

"What Puck said," Finn said. 

"Where are you going?" Kurt asked, waving at Artie and his camera crew of one. 

"I’ve heard some interesting things about one of the old Mayan cities," Artie said. "We’ve hired a car if you want to join us," he said to Puck and Finn. 

"We can do that," Puck said. Finn nodded. 

"You might want to be careful," Kurt said. "Sylvester said she was watching us like a hawk." 

"I’m not scared of that old bat," Puck said. "I can handle her police babes." 

"If you say so," Kurt said, shaking his head. Hearing an engine, he looked over to see the bus to the beach opening its doors. "Well, our ride is here. Finn, don’t get into trouble, your mother wouldn’t be too happy." 

"Right," Finn mumbled. "We’ll see you at the beach after lunch." 

Nodding, Kurt picked up his beach bag and followed Mercedes onto the bus. Sliding into the seat next to her he sighed. "I worry about him," he told her. "He just seems to be floating through life." 

"Maybe Berry really is his soulmate, like he thinks," Mercedes said. 

"No, just no," Kurt said, grimacing. "The world would implode with the implausibility. Let’s not think about that," he said. 

* * *

"Guess who was on that cruise ship full of pseudo spies?" Quinn said, sitting down at their table in the Chichen Itza commissary’s dining room, with a tray of breakfast burritos. "Anyone who isn’t Brittany," she quickly added. 

"Not fair!" Brittany grumbled. 

"Brit, you probably have novels of data on everyone who came in on that ship," Santana said, rubbing her girlfriend’s shoulder. "And Sylvester was there." 

"But I still wanted to guess!" Brittany said, pouting. "Maybe someone stowed away." 

"It must be one of our old Glee club members," Rachel guessed. "Is that one of those new vegan burritos the cooks have been experimenting with?" she asked, pointing at Quinn’s tray. 

"Five of them, actually," she said, putting two burritos in front of Rachel. "Artie, Puck, Finn, Mercedes, and Kurt." 

"That’s an odd combination," Rachel said, taking a bite of burrito and humming in delight. "We need to have these at our beach hotel." 

"Which one?" Quinn asked. 

"The one with the avocado," Rachel said, taking another bite. 

"No, which beach hotel," Quinn said. 

"We own more than one?" Rachel asked in surprise. 

"We own several management companies that own most of the hotels on Clan lands," Brittany said. "And we should own the rest by the end of the year. And one near Cedar Point and one in London, and one in New York," she quickly added with a smirk. 

"When did we decided to branch out into hotel ownership?" Rachel said. 

"When you were kidnapped," Brittany said. 

"You were kidnapped also," Rachel said. 

"Doesn’t matter," Brittany said. "Security is easier to control if you own the hotel. And we’ll probably spend quite a bit of time in New York and London." 

"I can see that," Rachel said, nodding in agreement. "New York so we can deal with the UN. London so Quinn can have a place to stay when the Queen wants to have tea." 

"Hey!" Quinn said. "I’m not a Queen groupie!" 

"No, the Queen is a Quinn groupie," Santana said, laughing loudly. 

"What about DC?" Quinn asked. "The President seems to like dragging you into meetings. Maybe he’s a Brittany Groupie?" 

"I’m looking but I think we really need an embassy in Washington, and eventually several others in Beijing, Moscow, and Australia." 

"Australia?" Rachel asked. 

"Lots of empty land we can use for planetary based defenses, just like we’ll have in New Mexico," Brittany said. "That gives us Northern and Southern hemisphere coverage." 

"What about my fleet?" Santana said. 

"That is for the Fleet," Brittany said. "You were asking for land for bases last month." 

"Right," Santana mumbled, grabbing a burrito off of Quinn’s tray. 

"Hey! Get your own," Quinn protested. 

"Brittany? Why do we need a hotel near Cedar Point?" Rachel asked. 

"You caught that? Because I like the rides there?" Brittany said. She smiled to herself. 

"Recreation is good," Rachel said, approvingly. "I hope you plan to share, I haven’t been there in years." 

"So, what are we doing about our visitors?" Rachel said. 

"Kurt and Mercedes are at the beach," Brittany said. "Sue scared them last night so they’re following her advice to stay out of trouble." 

"Should we point them at the family?" Rachel said. "Kurt once said he saw my dads as honorary uncles. On one of his nicer days." 

"Sure," Brittany said. "I can arrange that. When do you want him to see them?" 

"I’m not sure. Maybe dinner tonight or lunch tomorrow? How long are they going to be here?" she asked. 

"The cruise ship is here until Friday," Brittany said. 

"What are the boring bros doing today, since you appear to have them bugged," Santana asked Brittany. 

"Tagged, not bugged," Brittany said. "Finn and Puck are hanging out with Artie and his cameraman. I wonder if Artie knows his cameraman is with the Russian mob?" 

"We have the Russian mob poking around?" Quinn said. "Are we going to just let them in?" 

"Don’t worry, I have a plan," Brittany said. "Artie and the gang should be here by lunch." 

"Do they know this is our base?" Santana said. 

"Nobody knows," Brittany said. "Everyone thinks the old cities are still ruins. Boy are they going to be surprised." 

"How are you handling all of those spies using the cruise ship as a distraction?" Quinn asked Brittany. 

"Everyone on the cruise ship has been tagged," Brittany said. "If they do anything suspicious we’ll pick them up. We’ve also tagged a dozen agents who snuck in with the ship. We’re keeping an eye on them. As soon as they reported in we put them under blackout. If they cause trouble we’ll pick them up. If they contact any sleepers we’ll pick those up also. If they go near any embassies, we’ll pick them up then." 

"Thorough," Quinn said. "Good." 

"What are we doing with them after we pick them up?" Rachel asked, envisioning a dozen international incidents for holding foreign agents against their will. 

"Depends on who they work for," Brittany said. "Case by case. We really don’t need uncontrolled info leaks." 

"I understand that," Rachel said. "Just checking." 

"Don’t worry, Rach," Brittany said. "We’re keeping our fingers clean." 

"It’s not your fingers I’m worried about," she said. "But that’s good to know. I’m sure Santana appreciates it." 

"Ooh… sexual innuendo," Santana said. "You’re learning shorty." 

"Just because I don’t say things with double meaning, doesn’t mean I can’t," Rachel grumbled. "And what’s the plan to deal with Artie?" 

"Leave that to me," Quinn said. "Unless you have an urge to talk with Finn?" 

"Finn?" Rachel said. 

"Ex-boyfriend Finn," Quinn reminded her. 

"That was years ago," Rachel said. "I haven’t thought of him in that way in years." 

"Good," Quinn said under her breath, jumping at a kick directed her way by Santana. Glaring at her, she looked down to find out her breakfast was gone. "I need to get going." 

"Please don’t kill them," Rachel said. "Just spank them, metaphorically speaking, and send them on their way." 

"Yes, ma’am," Quinn said, smirking. "Spank and release." 

"Kinky," Santana said. "I think I’ll watch. You coming Brit?" 

"I think I’ll head to the beach with Rachel," Brittany said. "Haven’t seen Kurt or Mercedes in a while." 

"Okay, you and Rach are on Kurt patrol," Santana said. "Meet up at the Berry Dads for dinner?" 

"That sounds like a good plan," Rachel said. "Artie? Could you please inform my Dads that they’re hosting tonight and we might have a few extra guests?" 

"Yes, Lady Rachel," Artie said. 

"Not that I don’t enjoy spending time with your fathers, but isn’t that a lot for them to take care of?" Quinn asked. The implied 'they’re getting old' was clearly heard by the others. 

"It’s their turn," Rachel said. "They insisted on being part of the weekly dinner hosting. They would feel insulted if we took this chance to host away from them." 

"And your sister and Rachel’s mother are going to be there," Brittany said. "They’ve got it covered." 

"Yeah, Handsey, let’s go mess with some gleeks," Santana said. "I have this urge to freak them out." 

"Be nice," Rachel said, Brittany winking at them behind her back. 

* * *

"So, how do you want to do this?" Santana asked, after they’d put on their hard suits. Santana’s wasn’t a full combat model like Quinn’s but thanks to Brittany it was close, if more subtle in appearance. But still intimidating to the uninitiated. "Do you want them to know it’s us?" 

"Unless they think we’re clones or brain washed, they’ll know it’s us," Quinn said. "They were on the cruise ship last night. Treat them like we always have." 

"Right. So, don’t deny we’re us, and put the fear of us into them to remind them," Santana said. 

"Exactly," Quinn said. "According to Schultz, they weren’t exactly complimentary." 

"Brit thinks Kurt is the only one who came down here for the right reasons," Santana said, her voice echoing as she pulled on her helmet. "He was one of the ones who objected to the whole Ellen disaster, saying Ohio wasn’t ready for that kind of exposure." 

"He was right," Quinn said. "Rachel showed me some of the reaction to that. I can’t believe anyone thought that was a good idea. Have to wonder what 'phobe agitator fooled Ellen into doing that." 

"Yea, Ellen reminds me of what’s her name, our old school counselor. Smart, but too nice." 

"I thought you were still angry at her?" Quinn said. 

"She’s apparently family now, according to my mother, and family are allowed to do the occasional stupid," Santana said, shrugging. "And she’s more than made up for it since." 

"You’re the one in the target zone on that one," Quinn said. "However you want to handle it." 

"No time to worry about it," Santana said. "The clock’s ticking." 

Quinn nodded. "Frighten the neighbors, pose number 10?" she said, pointing at the top of the central pyramid. 

"Just us and our babysitters at the top of the world looking scary?" Santana said. "Sounds good to me. Meet you at the top." Putting on a burst of speed, she was a black blur crossing the inner courtyard. Her usual dirt-side bodyguards, Penny and Roni, followed close behind. 

"Show off," Quinn muttered. "Let’s take the high road," she said to her own bodyguards, Pip and Squeak. With a quick hop and then jump, the three of them soared high over the old city, landing at the top with low thumps. 

"You have to show me how to do that someday," Santana said. "That looks so awesome." 

"It’s a secret," Quinn said. "Requires special training." 

"Bull," Santana grumbled. "I bet Brit can show me." 

"Possibly," Quinn said. "She does seem to know everything. And her suits have some special features we don’t have." 

"For example?" Santana said. 

"Private channels even Artie can’t get to," Quinn said. "And I think she can access every other suit’s comm channels without anyone knowing." 

"Brit was born sneaky," Santana said proudly. 

"Darn tootin," Brittany said with a giggle on the command channel. 

"Brit!" Santana said. 

"Sh…" her voice whispered through the channel. "I’m trying to sneak up on Kurt. He looks kind of sad. Need to cheer him up." 

"We’ll let you get to your cheering up," Quinn said. "Santana and I have some puppies to deal with." 

"Roger Dogger," Brittany said, loudly disconnecting from the command channel. 

"I wonder what other channels she’s listening to us on?" Quinn said. 

"Don’t know. Won’t ask," Santana said. 

"Knowing she’s keeping an eye on us…" 

"Nice warm fuzzies," Santana finished for her. 

"Exactly," Quinn said. "But don’t tell Rachel. She’d write a song about it." 

"You mean, write another song about it," Santana said. "I wonder when they’re going to get here. I do have other things to do today." 

"Artie’s a bit slow with that chair," Quinn said. "And that’s not going to be too confusing, two Arties." 

"A spare for rainy days," Santana said. "That’s what Brit said. I think she’s over estimating boy-Artie." 

"Do you miss Lima?" Quinn asked, switching over to their private channel. 

"Nothing to miss," Santana said. "My parents are here, Britt is here, more cousins than I can count, and I get to fly spaceships and order people around. If I want to see family, I can. Lima was a place to escape, why would I miss it?" 

"I don’t know," Quinn said. "But I feel like I should." 

"You’re the one who had the crappy childhood," Santana said. "I’d forget as much of it as possible." 

"It wasn’t all crappy," Quinn said. "Some parts weren’t bad." 

"Berry got picked on by everyone, even us, and I bet if you asked her, she had a happier childhood than you." 

"You’ve got Brittany," Quinn said. "I don’t have anyone here. At least in Lima I had a boyfriend." 

"And good riddance to those juvie boys," Santana said. "And, you don’t have to be lonely. If you look around there are so many options. And you have Frannie." 

"I don’t want another boy," Quinn said. "More trouble than they were worth. And Frannie’s too busy playing house with Rachel’s mother." 

"Good, because I wasn’t talking about boys," Santana said. "Besides, when was the last time you enjoyed being with one of those Lima boys?" 

"I can’t remember," Quinn admitted. "Lima seems so long ago." 

"So get off the nostalgia train," Santana said. "Speaking of which." Santana pointed towards a moving column of dust approaching the city. 

"They won’t get past the gate," Quinn said. "They’ll be able to see us from there." 

"So let them stew? For how long?" 

"Not too long," Quinn said. "I have things to do today also. Thirty clicks?" 

"You’re more patient than I am," Santana said. "Let me know when." With a faint hum, Santana’s suit went into standby. 

Quinn didn’t need to monitor Santana’s suit to know that she was projecting back to her flagship to get some work done. Being able to project miles away as a semi-solid hologram took more processing power than her own suit had available but thanks to some of Brittany’s special toys Santana’s suit was able to tap into the processing power of her flagship. Unfortunately, it could only handle one suit linked in at a time, even in normal conditions. Quinn wasn't a fan of holographic projection but it did have limited use. The AI’s, like Artie, could easily handle it but Santana preferred her own, trusted, methods. 

Quinn watched as the dust cloud got nearer. She didn’t actually have a plan, but telling Brittany and Rachel that she was going to 'wing it' would not have gone over too well. Santana would have laughed and given her a thumbs up. She tended to plan small engagements like this on the fly. Her renowned meticulous planning tended to be absent when it wasn’t a life or death situation. 

The dust cloud came to a halt, quickly clearing away in the light breeze. Quinn watched and listened in on the sentry channels as Artie, Puck, and Finn tried to talk their way into the city. 

* * *

"Are we sure these ruins are open?" Puck asked. "Didn’t someone say that these aliens were using some of them for bases?" 

"Chichen Itza is one of the largest archeological sites on the peninsula," Artie said. "They wouldn’t do anything to it." 

"These are aliens, bro," Puck said. "Maybe they won’t care. It’s just a bunch of old rocks." 

"No one’s said anything," Artie said. His cameraman nodded, spitting out his window. "Someone would have noticed." 

"So, why are we going there if you don’t think the aliens will be there," Puck said. 

"Makes a great starting place," Artie said. "There are some carvings and hieroglyphs that look like aliens. According to some Ancient Alien theorists," he added with a laugh, repeating the refrain from the reality show his absent producer had started out on. 

"That’s a bunch of crap," Puck said. "Watched some of those shows for that history class Finn and I took in high school." 

"Slept through," Finn interjected. "I watched, you slept." 

"Okay, slept. If any of that ancient alien crap was real, there wouldn’t have been enough room for actual people to use the things these aliens were supposed to have built." 

"It sells," Artie said. "Almost as much as all that Bigfoot and UFO junk. But at least we have proof now that aliens visited in the past, and are back. Every time someone claims to have found Bigfoot it turns out to be someone in a gorilla suit." 

"Gorilla suits are hot in the summer," Finn mumbled. "And dangerous during hunting season." 

The van slowed down as it approached a high gate made out of some kind of white material. 

"That doesn’t look like ancient rock," Puck said, as the driver stopped. 

"No, no it doesn’t," Artie said. "Time to get out and look around." Unhooking his wheelchair from the railing, he wheeled to the ramp. "Chuck, don’t forget your extra batteries." 

"On it, Boss," Artie’s cameraman said, digging through a large equipment bag. 

Exiting the van, they headed towards the gate. Before they could reach it, two tall, armor wearing figures stepping in front of them. 

"Entrance is prohibited," one of them said, in a flat female voice. 

"We just want to look around," Puck said. "We won’t touch anything." 

"We won’t touch anything?" Artie said disbelievingly, in a low voice. "We just want to take some pictures," he said. 

"Entrance is prohibited," the voice said, again. 

"I bet they don’t speak English," Puck said. "That’s probably a recording." 

"What do they speak," Finn asked. "Alien?" 

"Duh!" Puck said. "Not very friendly, are they," he muttered. 

"They aren’t shooting at us," Finn said. 

"Shooting at us?" the cameraman said, looking around nervously. 

"That’s what aliens do in most of those movies we watched before coming down here," Finn said. "They say 'take me to your leader' and as soon as you do that they start shooting." 

"That’s why we brought you along Finn. Someone to hide behind," Artie said. 

"We’re being watched," Puck said, pointing towards a tall pyramid they could see through the gate. 

"Can we go in and talk to them?" Artie asked, pointing at the same pyramid. 

"Entrance is prohibited," the first gate guard said, for the third time. 

"Maybe they’re robots," Finn said. "They keep repeating that." 

"Hey!" Puck shouted towards the gate. 

"Entrance is…" 

"Prohibited," Artie said. "We get the message. Is there someone we can speak to? We’ve come a long way." 

"Entrance is by invitation only," another, more vibrant, female voice said, from behind them. 

Turning, they were surprised at the almost normal looking appearance of the woman now standing by their van. Dressed like a native, in a brightly colored cape, strange looking cap, and sandals, she could have just stepped out of a Yucatan tourist magazine, Artie thought, if she didn’t have blonde hair. 

"Isn’t this public property?" he asked. 

"The previous occupants did not renew the lease," the woman said, with a straight face, "so it reverted to the original owners. 

"How do we get an invitation to look around?" Artie asked. 

"You have to know someone," she said. "Or be important." 

"I’m a TV show host," Artie said. "Letting us look around could be good publicity." 

"I suspect your show would not be seen as good publicity, Mr Abrahms," she said. 

"She must have seen your last show," Puck said, laughing. 

"I would like to see the pyramids," Finn said. "We came all this way for answers." 

"I can’t promise that you’ll like the answers you get," she said, "but let me get you someone who can answer them." Turning to the armored figure to her right, she said, loudly, "Hey Hailey, tell your boss to get down here. She has visitors." 

"Yes, Lady F," the figure answered. 

"Who are you?" Puck asked, looking at her suspiciously. 

"I know someone," she said, smirking, before walking away. 

"She looks familiar," Finn said. "I’ve seen her somewhere before." 

"Kidnapped by aliens? Didn’t know you had it in you," Puck said. 

"I was never kidnapped by aliens," Finn grumbled. 

"If they looked like the Roswell Greys, they were probably afraid you would step on one of them." 

"Never change Puckerman, that would be a true sign of the Apocalypse," an accented voice said as they were suddenly inundated by more armored figures. 

"Who said that," Puck asked the faceless armored figures. 

"How you managed to buy your own bar is a mystery," another voice said. "We should probably look into that. I bet he’s been skimming the orphanage money again. Or finally managed to steal an ATM with getting caught." 

"I didn’t touch any orphan money," Puck said, trying to figure out who was speaking. 

"They can come in as far as the courtyard," the first voice said, "but any recording devices stay behind." 

"But…" Artie attempted to object. 

"No exceptions," the voice said. "Put anything electronic in the van that you want to keep." 

Grumbling, Puck walked around to the back of the van, and grabbed his small haversack from his seat. Going through his pockets, he pulled out his phone and stuffed it into his haversack. "Finn?" he shouted, "give me your stuff." Finn lumbered over to him and gave him his phone, and watch. He then stuffed the bag under his seat. 

"What if someone calls me," Finn said. 

"Call them back," Puck told him. Going back around to the front of the van, they rejoined the others. Puck didn’t bother asking where Artie and his cameraman had hidden their cameras. He couldn’t see them not attempting to record what they saw. 

"Is that everything," the second voice asked. Puck looked around, still unable to figure out who was talking. It was like some movie special effect. 

As soon as they were all together, the gate opened, though Puck thought it looked like it dissolved, which, while not as cool as the anime armor they were all wearing, was still fancy alien tech. 

As they stepped, or in Artie’s case rolled, through the gate, there were a couple snapping sounds, and Artie’s cameraman shouted, and started digging at a pocket. No one said anything as they followed the aliens inside stopping in a large empty space. 

"Someone didn’t follow orders," the second voice said. "Naughty puppy." 

"Why are you here," the first voice said. "This is no longer a tourist site." 

"I’m a TV host," Artie said. "I investigate unusual events." 

"We know what you do, Artie," the second voice, that Puck had finally identified as coming from the shortest of the aliens. "That doesn’t explain why you think it’s a good idea to wander around in the jungle with a volunteer fireman, a bartender, and a spy." 

"Spy?" Artie said. "Who? Our driver?" he asked in the sudden silence. 

The helmets of several of the aliens lowered, revealing two familiar faces. "I can’t believe you didn’t check," the shorter one, wearing the face of Santana Lopez, said, in a strange accent. "Your cameraman works for the Russian mob," she said. "And when we said no electronics, we meant it. And no reimbursements for damaged equipment." 

"I’m not in the Russian mob," Artie’s cameraman protested. "They’re making it up." 

"We have some of the best data techs on this planet," Santana said. "If they say you’re Russian mob, then you are. Just be glad we’re letting you go." 

"Did you get your answers, Finn?" the Quinn look-alike asked. 

"Why don’t you guys come home," Finn asked. "Everybody misses you. I’m sure the aliens would let you go." 

"Everyone who matters is down here," she said. "And they don’t need to let us go. They are us." 

"Yeah," Santana said. "This is the place to be, not Loser-ville Ohio." 

"If you’re aliens, you aren’t who you look like," Puck said. "What’d you do with the real Quinn and Santana, and where are Brittany and Rachel?" 

"We are the real us," Quinn said. "We just grew up. And got some really cool toys." 

"Britt and Berry decided to spend the day at the beach," Santana said. "Catch a few rays, break a few hearts." 

"Are you going to let us look around?" Artie asked. 

"If you’re here for the ruins, there isn’t much left," Quinn said. "We live here now." 

"What about all of the archeological artifacts?" Artie asked. 

"Gone," Quinn said. "Recorded and rebuilt for us." 

"What about your families?" Puck asked. "Don’t they deserve to know you’re still alive?" 

"Ah, Puckerman, nice bit of concern showing there," Santana said. "But don’t worry about our families. We have things under control." 

"So, no filming," Artie said. 

"Not here," Quinn said. "If you really need to look at collapsing ruins for your show, I’m sure we can work out some kind of mutually beneficial arrangement." 

"How about you let us film and we don’t tell people this is all a fraud." 

"No can do Wheels," Santana said. "This isn’t a fraud, it’s the real deal." 

"I have a responsibility to my viewers," Artie said. "They expect hard hitting investigative journalism." 

"You do shows about dust covered caves and pyramids, and tell everyone you are discovering new alien artifacts," Quinn said. "If that’s what you call journalism, I’m not surprised your show was cancelled." 

"Where’d you hear that?" Artie asked. "It’s not cancelled, we’re just renegotiating a new production deal." 

"Like I said," Santana said, "we have some really talented cyber people. I can read your cancellation notice to everyone else if you want me do." 

"No, that’s okay," he said, grimacing. 

"So, why are you here, Puck?" Santana said. "We know why Finn and Artie came to our fair land, but what about you?" 

"Moral support? I figured Kurt needed some bro-power on this trip, and we hooked up with Artie to make it easier to get down here," Puck said. 

"Huh," Quinn said. "That sounded suspiciously too mature. Maybe you’re impersonating the real Puck." 

"What can I say," Puck said. "I’ve been a grown-up for a while."  "Well gang, time to pack it up and head back to town," Santana said abruptly, shutting down the discussion. "Artie, if you honestly want to do some filming down here, Brit will be contacting you before your ride leaves. Until then, go enjoy the beach, and stay out of trouble." 

"What about me?" Finn asked. 

"I think you rate a 'mostly harmless'," Santana said. "Go to the beach, enjoy the clubs, stay out of trouble." 

"Do I get to see Rachel?" he asked. "We have some unfinished business." 

"I suspect she considers it finished. It’s been a while for us," Quinn said. 

"Ancient history," Santana added. "No time for high school romances when you have an invasion to keep an eye on." 

"Hailey and Jack will see you back to your van," Quinn said, ignoring Finn’s question, "and make sure you get back to Cancun. And, no telling people you knew us back in Lima, or anywhere, for that matter." 

"And Mob boy, we’re keeping an eye on you. We don’t like organized crime," Santana said. "Later losers," she said, reengaging her helmet and disappearing along with her bodyguards. 

Quinn shook her head, pulled her helmet back in place, and left without another word. 

"Alien Quinn is scary, just like regular old Quinn," Finn said. "And I never got to tell her about Mr. Schue, like he asked me to." 

"Let’s go to the beach," Puck said. "Maybe Kurt saved us a spot." 

* * *

"How do you think that went?" Quinn said, as she watched the van disappear back into the forest from the top of the main pyramid. 

"Not enough spanking," Santana said over their private channel. She was already headed back to the Fleet. 

"Rachel wants to see Finn," Brittany said. "She needs closure." 

"Well, He can sing but he doesn’t really fit the Clan ideal of the mythic hero or leading man," Quinn said. "But I don’t think it would hurt." 

"Everyone will be at the beach tonight," Brittany said. "Family dinner tomorrow." 

"I can do beach," Santana said. "Just dress right." 

"Beach bunny dressage?" Brittany asked with a giggle. 

"I have to sit this one out," Quinn said. "You guys have fun." 

"I’m sure we can arrange something," Brittany said. 

"If I’m getting sand up my ass, you are too, Q," Santana said. "And no arguments."  "Oops, gotta go," Brittany said. "Need to rescue Kurt from some clingy beach babes." 

"I’m gonna marry that woman," Santana said, with a laugh. 

"Better talk with Berry first," Quinn said. 

"Why?" 

"Who do you think approves and performs important marriages in the Clans?" 

"She won’t say no," Santana said. "What if she wants to get married herself?" 

"To who?" Quinn asked, frowning. 

"Wouldn’t you like to know," Santana said. "Later, Q-babe, see yah at the Berry beach." 

"To who?" Quinn repeated to herself. Rachel didn’t seem to spend much time with anyone else. Certainly not enough time for a relationship to develop. "Artie?" Quinn asked. "Does Rachel have a close friend she hasn’t told any of us about?" 

"I am unable to answer that," Artie said. 

"You know everything," Quinn said. "You must know who she spends most of her time with." 

"The Memory’s personal activities are not accessible during her lifetime," Artie said. 

"Really?" Quinn said. "I thought that was only her personal memories?" 

"Yes. All personal facets of the Memory’s life are off limits except to entities designated by the Memory." 

"Which would be who," Quinn asked. Sometimes, extracting information from Artie was like keeping secrets from Brittany. 

"No known entities," Artie said. 

"Even Brittany?" Quinn asked. 

"Unknown at this time," Artie said. 

"Of course not," Quinn said, keeping her frustration to herself. 


	5. Detente

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 6,780 ( 5 of 9 )

Kurt carefully brushed the sand off the beach chair he’d rented. Unlike Mercedes, he wanted something more between himself and the hot beach sand than a thin towel. He wasn’t sure, anymore, why he’d thought coming down to Mexico on the off chance that one of the aliens actually was Rachel Berry was a good idea. 

They’d watched the interviews with Ellen over and over for the last month as they waited for permission to come to the alien enclave. And, no matter how many times he saw them, Kurt still couldn’t decide if that was really Rachel Berry. She, and the others, just seemed so alien. If it were them, something had changed them. He wasn’t sure they would remember him or even be able to communicate in a language he or Mercedes understood. Sure, they had seemed very articulate, speaking with a faint foreign accent, but he’d been unable to detect any signs of their high school doppelgängers. 

"You think too much," Mercedes said, throwing an ice chip at him. 

"Too much? Not enough," he said. "Why are we here?" 

"You wanted to look for Berry," she said. "I just wanted to go on vacation." 

"You wanted to look for her too," he protested, shaking the umbrella over his head to see if it was safe. "Though I don’t see any cabana boys." 

"The cabana boys are too busy staring at the aliens," she said, waving at a small crowd down the beach." 

"The perils of alien beauty," he said snidely. "There’s nothing special about them, except their odd taste in clothes." 

"And that accent," Mercedes said. "Get me some hunky surfer with that accent and I could die happy." 

"There are no alien men," Kurt said, frowning down at his copy of Vogue with yet another gussied up reality star on the cover. "No one seems to know why." 

"Yeah, what’s up with that," Mercedes said. "There have to be some somewhere. I don’t believe them. I think they were lying to Ellen." 

"The cabana boys would probably revolt," Kurt said. "It’s bad enough that most of the alien women ignore them. At least they get some attention." 

"Doesn’t that woman look familiar," Mercedes asked, pointing out an older, short, brunette woman jogging towards them. 

"You’re correct," Kurt murmured. "Definitely a previous acquaintance." 

"Hello," the woman said, coming to a slow stop between them and the beach. "What brings the two of you here?" 

"Here the beach or here Cancun?" Kurt asked. "And, not to be rude, you look very familiar but I can’t remember your name." 

"Cancun, the beach is obvious. This is one of the nicer beaches in the enclave," she said. "I suspect we’ve never been formally introduced. I’m Shelby Corcoran. I was the coach of Vocal Adrenaline. And both of you were in New Directions back when it showed promise." 

"New Directions still shows promise," Mercedes said. "But they just can’t seem to catch a break." 

Shelby sat down on the sand. "You don’t mind if I keep you company?" she asked. "My friend seems to have wandered off to hang out with her younger sister." 

"It’s a free beach," Kurt said. "What brings you to Cancun?" 

"We won a free trip and two weeks at the hotel right up there," she said, waving vaguely up the beach. "That was three months ago." 

"So you’ve been here a while? Aren’t they letting people leave yet?" Kurt asked. 

"What was it like during the invasion?" Mercedes asked, before Shelby could answer Kurt’s questions. 

"We didn’t really notice the annexation right away," Shelby said. "They don’t consider it an invasion since their people were the original settlers of the area. We couldn’t contact the outside world but we came here to be by ourselves so that was okay. And we’ve petitioned the Council of Nine, the leaders of the aliens, for permanent residence." 

"You can do that? How can you do that?" Mercedes asked. "Maybe we should do that," she said to Kurt. "It’s an awesome beach. 

"You have to have Mayan ancestors, or be married or in a relationship with someone who does," Shelby said. 

"Do you have to prove it?" Mercedes asked. "Did the Mayans keep good records? Didn’t the Spanish burn everything that proved there were aliens? That was on one of those shows Artie had us watch. " 

"There was that woman on Ellen who wrote about what happened to the Mayan’s," Kurt said. "She called it a diaspora. Sort of like the Jewish diaspora but without the religious persecution." 

"So you must have Mayan ancestors?" Mercedes said excitedly. "What do you think about this whole Clan thing?" 

"No, I don’t," Shelby said, "but my friend does, though she and her sister, and probably her mother, look like your typical blue eyed and blonde haired Northern Europeans, so it was a bit of a surprise. The Clans seem to have an interesting, if overly complex, family structure." 

"Is it real?" Mercedes asked. "It feels like the aliens watched a lot of bad TV and surfed the internet to get some of their ideas." 

"Oh, they're real," Shelby said. "Their ideas do show a little too much pop culture influence, in my opinion, but the minds behind them run rings around our smartest." 

"So you’ve met their leaders?" Mercedes asked. 

"Yes," Shelby said. 

"What are they like?" Kurt asked. "They seemed a bit... different, when they appeared on Ellen." 

"I found them charming," Shelby said, "if a bit idiosyncratic." Something beeped, loudly. "Someone’s looking for me," Shelby said, standing back up. "I’m sure we’ll speak again before you leave." 

"Yes, ma’am," they both said. 

"That was strange," Mercedes said as they watched her head up a path that led towards a group of beach houses. "I wonder who her friend is. And doesn’t she look even more familiar now?" 

"Yes, there was a certain Rachelness to her," Kurt said. 

"That’s who she reminds me of," Mercedes said, excitedly. "Like how I imagine an older Rachel Berry would act." 

"There’s a very good reason for that," a voice said behind them. 

Gasping in surprise, they both turned around. Dressed in colorful beach coverups, Rachel Berry and Brittany giggled at the reaction their appearance caused. 

"Miss Berry," Kurt said. "Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. And an explanation would be warranted." 

"Some things, we can explain, others, not right now," Brittany said. "But first, let us get into comfortable beach mode." 

"Of course," Mercedes said. "Get comfortable. Plenty of room." 

"That’s because this is our regular spot," Brittany said, winking at her. "The hotel keeps it clear just for us." 

"Do we need to move?" Kurt asked, looking around. "This was the only free spot." 

"No, you’re friends," Rachel said. "Don’t even think of moving somewhere else. If we hadn’t wanted you here, you wouldn’t be." 

"So, tell us the truth," Mercedes said, leaning towards them and speaking in a low voice. "Figureheads or real leaders?" 

"Definitely real," Rachel said, "though the others have jobs that are more real than my own. Kurt, do you know the old Welsh tales of wandering bards?" 

"Those guys who told stories and spread culture all over England and Ireland?" 

"That would be them," Rachel said. "My job is partially that. Keeper of Clan culture. And there’s so much amazing music and epic poetry to investigate." 

"And there’s the real Rachel Berry," Kurt said in a low voice that hopefully only Mercedes heard. Mercedes nodded. 

"And speaking of music, who is Shelby Corcoran? Why does she look so much like you?" 

"Well... since we haven’t shared the tech for it yet, it isn’t possible for men to bear children." 

"And please keep that to yourself," Kurt said. "Men aren’t built to do that, no matter what fan fiction writers might dream up as an excuse. Where would we put it?" 

"Yeah, Kurt made me read a couple of those, as punishment," Mercedes said. "But you’re avoiding the question." 

"She’s a close friend of the family," Rachel said. "The rest is our secret. For now." 

"She’s your clone?" Mercedes said. "Sent back in time by the aliens?" 

"No, she’s my mother," Rachel said in a whisper, exasperated. "And I didn’t tell you that." 

"Got it," Mercedes whispered back. "A secret." 

"I bet it was the kidnapping," Kurt said, missing their whispered conversation. "That was a shock to so many people. She probably aged overnight." 

"It shocked us too," Rachel said loudly. Next to her, Brittany to burst into laughter. "Hey!" 

"Sorry, I was listening to Quinn and Santana," Brittany said, giggling. 

"Have they talked to Puck yet?" Rachel asked. "How’s Finn look?" 

"No, just no!" Kurt said, dramatically holding a hand to his chest. "Please tell me you aren’t still interested in Finn." 

"Nope," Brittany said, answering for her. "She has much better prospects for extreme snuggles." 

"Brittany! That was told in confidence," Rachel said, blushing. 

"And I haven’t mentioned a certain someone’s future in-law, have I"? 

"Let’s keep it that way," Rachel said. 

"We can keep a secret," Mercedes said. "Who do you have your eye on? Some space hottie?" 

"I’m not talking," Rachel said, laying back on her towel with a huff. 

"Definitely a hottie," Brittany said to Mercedes, in a loud whisper, causing Rachel to groan. 

* * *

Puck strolled down the beach, checking out the sun bathers and beach bunnies. Artie had headed back to the cruise ship after their brief encounter with Scary Alien Quinn and her plucky sidekick, Sarcastic Santana. Finn had parked himself at a bar further up the beach. Puck, however, was still hoping to run into Berry. He’d feel a lot better about this trip if that one goal was met. 

"Puck!" 

Puck looked around for the person shouting his name. It had to be Kurt, since everyone else was somewhere else. Looking towards a small clump of trees, he spotted Kurt waving. Waving back, in the coolest way possible, Puck changed direction. 

Grabbing a beer bottle from a passing waiter, Puck plopped down in the sand, next to Kurt. "Hey," he said, taking a sip. 

"Did you see any ruins?" Kurt asked. "Did Artie get any good footage?" 

"It was a bust," Puck said. "The ruins were closed to tourists." 

"So Artie wasn’t able to talk his way in?" Kurt asked. 

"Nope," Puck said. "Quinn told us to get lost." 

"You saw Quinn?" 

"And Santana," he said. "They were dressed in that cartoon armor, but it was them or aliens who looked like them." 

"And they didn’t let you look around?" Mercedes asked, looking at him from the other side of Kurt. 

"Nope," Puck said. "And they said Artie’s camera guy was a mobster." 

"That’s not good." 

"Where’s Finn?" Kurt asked. "And Artie." 

"Finn stopped for a drink," Puck said. "He should be along in a bit, if he doesn’t get distracted. Artie went back to the ship. Quinn told him to call Brittany if he wanted to do any filming around here." 

"She gave you Brittany’s number?" Mercedes asked. 

"Nah," Puck said. "If he can’t figure out how to call her that’s his problem." 

"No Berry?" Mercedes asked, smirking. 

"No," Puck grumbled. "Not even a hint." 

"Maybe you aren’t trying hard enough," a voice he couldn’t identify said behind him. 

"Puck?" 

"Yeah Mercedes?" Puck said, slowly turning. 

"Guess who we found?" 

"Hello, Noah," the voice said again, just as he completed turning. Laying down, in beach chairs he hadn’t noticed until now, were two women. They were older but could only be Rachel Berry and Brittany Pierce. 

"Hey Puck!" Brittany said, waving at him from the other side of Rachel. "I’m meeting with Artie tomorrow morning. We’ll take care of him, though probably not the way he expects." 

'Hey, former Gleek babes," Puck said, staring at them intently. "What’s with the whole accent thing? Q and Satan were pushing the accent also." 

"It happened when we were kidnapped," Rachel said. 

"You didn’t get probed, did you?" Puck asked, making a face. 

"Oh, no, that’s not how real aliens do things," Rachel said. "They don’t need to do any probing." 

"Not even if you ask," Brittany said. "If you get probed it’ll probably be by the Men In Black. Those guys aren’t fluffy." 

"There really are black helicopters?" 

"Yes," Brittany said. "They keep trying to kidnap Rach. All of their stuff is black." 

"Why?" Puck asked. 

"Why what?" 

"Why do they keep trying to kidnap you?" he asked Rachel. 

Rachel shrugged. "Don’t know but it’s annoying." 

"They don’t like aliens," Brittany said. "They’re like a really mean Torchwood without the cute coffee guy or Captain Jack." 

"Need some protection, babes?" Puck asked them. "I’m here for you." 

"Brittany’s got amazing alien ninja powers," Rachel said. "So we’re okay when we travel, though you’re welcome to come along. Besides, we don’t allow them in the enclave." 

"Oh," Puck said, trying not to feel disappointed. "I can’t leave my bar for that long anyway." 

"You’re doing real well," Brittany said, nodding. "I peeked at your taxes." 

"I get by," Puck said. "So, what’s the plan?" 

"Plan?" Kurt asked. 

"Well, you and the others aren’t kidnapped anymore. Are you coming home?" 

"Where’s home?" Rachel said. "We’ve been gone for a long time." 

"Where your family is, I guess," Puck said. 

"Well, my dads are here, and Shelby is planning to move down here if Frannie agrees." 

"Who’s Shelby?" Puck asked. 

"Her mother," Mercedes said, looking like she was keeping so many secrets she would burst. 

"Coach for Vocal Adrenaline?" Kurt added. 

"Really?" Puck said. "Who’s Frannie?" 

"Quinn’s older sister," Brittany said. "She’s living with Shelby." 

"Was it something about Lima?" Puck asked. "Something in the air? All the good ones are lesbians. You’re not a lesbian yet?" he asked Rachel. 

"No," Rachel said. "But neither is Quinn." 

"If you say so," Puck said. Behind her, Brittany was shaking her head. He wondered what that was about. "So, you’re living the alien lifestyle?" 

"That’s one way to put it," Rachel said. 

"So much juicy gossip," Mercedes said, "and we can’t tell anyone." 

"Why not," he asked. 

"Because we say so," Brittany said, giving him a look that could freeze the blood in a man’s bones. "You can either not talk about what you’ve discovered or we turn you into a popsicle." 

"She’s not joking," Rachel said. "You don’t want to mess with the Shadow." 

"You have cool superhero names already," Puck grumbled. "Why didn’t we get to pick a name." 

"The only ones who could be superheroes are Brittany and Quinn," Rachel said. "You don’t want to run into one of them in a dark alley. Santana and I learned self defense but those two take it to a whole new level." 

If you say so," Puck said, frowning. "What can I do to help then? Not going to leave me behind again." 

"For now, you can enjoy the beach and your visit to Cancun," Brittany said. "We'll let you know if we need anything from you. Just remember that our old lives in Lima are off limits. Even if the President asks about us, you know nothing." 

"Got it," Puck said. "History is ancient history. I can be a loyal alien minion. Who’s going to explain things to Finn?" 

"Who does that now?" Rachel asked. "He wasn't dumb, just in his own little world." 

"He’s a good guy," Puck said. "Just a little aimless. And he wants to find out what happened to his old girlfriends, especially a certain singing one." 

"We can’t have that," Brittany said. "Rach, you need to tell him you can’t get back together." 

"Get back together?" Rachel said. "I haven’t seen him since that night. Haven’t thought about him in years." 

"Well, you’re about to see him now," Brittany said, pointing down the beach. "Did he get taller?" 

"Don’t know," Rachel said. "You’re the one who keeps tabs on everyone." 

"Kurt, his mom is still married to your dad, right?" Brittany said. "So you’re still his stepbrother?" 

"We don’t socialize much," Kurt said. "He hangs out with his butch firehouse buddies and at Puck’s bar. Mercedes and I live in Cleveland." 

"Did you see Barbra get inducted into the Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame?" Rachel asked excitedly. "I’ve seen the recordings but being there must have been amazing!" 

"Not the time, Rachel," Brittany said. "Incoming past awkwardness." 

"But, Barbra!" Rachel said. "A first hand account!" 

"You promised us you wouldn’t spread the Barbra cult in the Clan," Brittany said firmly. 

"I promised no such thing," Rachel said, pouting. "You’re making that up. Right Artie?" 

"Artie? Where?" Puck asked, standing up and looking around. 

"Not your Artie," Rachel said. "Our Artie. She’s our AI." 

"AI?" Kurt said, looking puzzled. 

"Yeah, Artificial Intelligence. She runs our asteroid base, and is always listening." 

"And you can’t hear her out here," Brittany said. "You need to have a Clan comm." 

"Clan comm?" Puck said. "Like a radio? Where are you wearing it?" he asked, leering at them. 

"Not telling, and keep your eyes to yourself!" Rachel said. "If you’re good, maybe we can get you one of your own." 

"Don’t make any promises you can’t keep," Brittany sent over their private channel. "Artie says he doesn’t have any Clan blood. None of the other Gleeks do either. It’s rarer than we originally thought." 

Before Rachel could respond to the silent communication, the sun was blocked by a tall object. 

"Finn!" Puck squeaked, stepping between Finn and Rachel. "Finn, how’s it going buddy? What’s up?" 

"Thought I’d head back to the ship for a nap before dinner," Finn said. "Hey Kurt, Mercedes." 

"Finn," Kurt said. 

Mercedes nodded at Finn with a delighted expression, before looking at the others to see their reactions to his appearance. 

"You’re welcome to stay for dinner," Rachel said, pushing Puck to the side. "All of you." "Hey Rachel," Finn said. "How are your dads doing? Haven’t seen them in Lima for a while." 

"They’ve moved down here," Rachel said. "If you come to dinner, my dads are cooking."  "That’s all you have to say?" Puck whispered, loudly, pulling him off to the side. "You haven’t seen her in years. Your ex-girlfriend?" 

"It’s a nice place down here," Finn said. "While you’ve been scoping the bunnies, I’ve been talking with people." 

"Okay..." Puck said. 

"They’re making it better," Finn said. "The people who live here are happy. There’s almost no crime, and they’ve gotten rid of all the drug dealers. And nobody is starving. One of the bartenders was telling me how bad it was before Rachel and the aliens took over. It was okay for tourists but everybody else was scared. Quinn’s been doing her scary-Q thing and scaring away all the bad guys." 

"So, Cancun is a paradise?" 

"Paradise? If that means a good place to live, yes," Finn said, stepping around him. "Hey Rachel, do we need to change or is this okay?" he waved at his t-shirt and jeans shorts. 

"No need to change," Rachel said. "Beach wear is fine. So you’re joining us for dinner?" 

"Yes," he said. "I think I’ll wander down the beach a bit more." 

"Okay. Anyone else?" Rachel said, stand up. "Meet us up at the house in a couple hours?" 

"Okay," Puck said, flopping out on the sand next to Kurt. "Hey Berry, awesome bod," he said, watching her pull Brittany to her feet also. "You too Britt. Don’t tell Satan I said that," he quickly added. "She was looking kinda fierce in that armor." 

"Our little secret," Brittany said, winking at him, adding "But she is hot in her suit." Waving at them, she followed Rachel up the beach and out of sight. 

"That wasn’t what I expected," he said to Kurt. "No drama with the B’s. Just a Hello, come to dinner." 

"The B’s?" Mercedes asked. 

"Britt and Berry," Puck said. "Q and Satan were still kind of scary but the B’s seem happy. And hotter than I remember. What’s their story?" 

"Nothing we can talk about here," Kurt said. 

"Meaning, you have no idea," Puck said. 

"Nope," Kurt said, nodding. "They promised to talk later. After dinner." 

* * *

Sitting out on the wide porch after dinner, the former Gleeks, except Artie who was busy networking with business connections Brittany had sent him, and the Berry dads, drank and watched the ocean. Shelby and Frannie had disappeared, citing a prior engagement, to much laughter and suggestive comments from the four not-so-alien women. 

Puck noticed how close Quinn and Berry sat next to each other in surprise. Quinn had been quite all evening, though occasionally she would go still, like she was talking to someone. Santana cuddled up to Brittany and not carrying that anyone saw wasn’t a real surprise, they’d been headed that way in high school, if not already there. 

"What’s that," he finally asked. 

"What’s what," Quinn said, frowning at him over her wineglass. 

"You froze for a second," he said. "Like that!" he said as she did it again. 

"Oh, that," Quinn said. "It’s nothing." 

"Sheesh," Santana said. "She’s talking on her comm. One of her wonder-kids had a question." 

"San," Brittany said. "They didn’t need to know that. Now they’re going to think we’re rude." 

"I am rude" Santana said. "And you do it too, but you’ve got that secret ninja model comm so no one notices." 

"Secret Ninja?" Kurt asked. 

"Is this one of the things you’re gonna explain," Puck asked. "We won’t tell. Already got the warnings of death and dismemberment over that." 

"Dismember-what?" Finn asked, clearly puzzled. 

"If we tell anyone they really are from Lima, they kill us, chop us up and throw us into the sun," Puck said. 

"We never said that," Rachel said. "Did we?" 

"He’s just being a drama queen," Santana said. "We wouldn’t bother with the killing and chopping up. We’d just toss them straight into the sun from one of my ships." 

"Not much better, S," Quinn said. 

"I’m sure you have a better threat?" Santana said. 

"I’d just sic one of Brittany’s kids on their bank accounts," Quinn said. "They’d be begging for quarters for their lattes on Lima street corners." 

"Okay, that’s a good one, I’ll have to admit," Santana said. "I guess you still got it." 

"They’re still like this, even after alien kidnapping and invading Mexico?" Mercedes asked. 

"Amazing, isn’t it," Rachel said, poking Quinn. 

"So, the story," Puck said. 

"Go for it," Quinn said, poking Rachel back. "You’re the official historian." 

"Where should I start," Rachel asked, gulping down the contents of her glass. "And what do you really want to know?" 

"Everything," Kurt said. 

"I want to understand what’s going on," Finn said. "How’d you get here?" 

"So, our origin story?" Quinn asked. 

"Yeah! Origin story," Finn said. 

"That could take a while," Rachel said. "How about the short version for now?" 

"Go for it," Puck said, reaching into the cooler for another beer. "Short origin story." 

"Okay. So you all remember we were kidnapped, right?" Rachel said. 

"No one is ever forgetting that," Mercedes said. 

"Well, it was aliens," Rachel said, smirking, causing several of them to groan. 

"No shit!" Puck said. "But then what." 

"Okay. So, they kidnap us, and send us to school," she said. "They teach us all sorts of things. Their language. Self defence. All that sort of thing. And then they taught us different occupations. They taught Santana how to fly spaceships, and how to run the Fleet." 

"Fleet?" Finn asked. "Isn’t that what they call the ships in the Navy?" 

"Same kind of thing," Santana said. "All of our spaceships and spacers are part of the fleet. Like a Navy. And I’m in charge of it. Like an admiral." 

"That’s a scary thought," Kurt said. "Sorry, continue," he said, dodging the shell she threw at him. 

"So, they taught Santana how to run the Fleet, after teaching her all sorts of things about the ships in the fleet. Quinn. Quinn. Mighty Quinn. Her they taught everything on how to be a soldier and run an army." 

"My troopers are more like Marines," Quinn said. "But yeah, they stuffed my head full of all sorts of military skills. So, the Clan has troops and I’m in charge of them." 

"She’s really good at it," Brittany said. "They’re predicting she’ll be one of the top ten in Clan history. And that’s without fighting any major wars yet." 

"They taught me how to be their version of a bard," Rachel said. "Which is kind of like being a politician, ambassador, historian, and story teller. And a lot of other things." 

"If you thought she was bad back in Lima," Santana said, "now she has even more music to sing, in all sorts of languages." 

"It’s my thing," Rachel said primly. 

"What about Britt," Mercedes asked. "What’d they train her to do?" 

"She’s our head spy," Rachel said. "They taught her all sorts of spy skills." 

"I’m like M and James Bond," Brittany said. "I’ve got mad spy skills. And ninja skills. And I could take everyone here without breaking into a sweat." 

"You have to see her in action," Santana said. "Even Q can’t beat her." 

"In hand-to-hand," Quinn said. "Maybe." 

"Alpha females can be so hot," Brittany said, pulling Santana up into a toe curling kiss. 

"So, the aliens kidnapped all of you, trained you to be a general, an admiral, a historian, and a spy. Why?" Kurt asked. "What made them pick you?" 

"Do you understand about the Clans?" Rachel asked. "That they’re used as a kind of peacekeeping force by the Confederation?" 

"That’s what you said on Ellen," Kurt said. "But what does that have to do with you four?" 

"Okay, so there were thirteen clans. Each had a chunk of the Confederation to keep an eye on. Lots of planets and stars to protect from invasion. Deal with space pirates and criminals. That kind of thing. One of them was supposed to use this planet as their base. And they did, for years. Here in the Yucatan because it was like their home planet. And then they disappeared. And the Confederation took a few years to notice." 

"Over a thousand years," Brittany said. "This is a really quiet corner of the galaxy." 

"And then it took them years to do something," Rachel said. "They investigated and discovered that the Clan and all of their equipment had disappear. But their descendants were still here." 

"The Mayans," Kurt said. 

"Yes," Rachel said. "So they put together a plan to take those descendants and turn them back into the Clan peacekeepers." 

"Why did they need you four?" Kurt asked. 

"Because, there was one small problem with their plan," Rachel said. "There wasn’t anyone close enough to run things. The Clan leadership was all gone. And the closest of the other Clans couldn’t get here for hundreds of years. They were too busy." 

"Why couldn’t they wait?" Puck asked. "Why kidnap you guys instead?" 

"The other Clans are fighting an old enemy on the other side of the Confederation," Rachel said. "The Confederation was afraid it would spread to this part of the galaxy and no one would be here to stop it." 

"Couldn’t the Confederation send someone else?" 

"No," Rachel said. "And no, I can’t explain why. You wanted the short version. Explaining Confederation politics and rules would take longer than the whole short version. But back to the explanation... 

So, they kidnap us, and train us to be these things, which happen to be important Clan leadership positions. And then they offered us a job. They wanted us to recreate the lost Clan. Start out small with a few thousand people, a fleet, an army, intelligence service, with people to run them, and a cultural historian to make sure things are done the Clan way. And, part of that meant taking over the lost Clan lands, and the Clan descendants. When we’re done, the Clan should be at the minimum strength needed. 

"And then you can turn over this project to someone else and come home," Hiram said, speaking for the first time since dinner. 

Rachel sighed, but didn’t argue. 

"How did they pick you four?" Kurt asked. "That’s something that makes no sense. Why didn’t they pick someone who lived here already?" He waved his hand towards the lights of the city in the distance. 

"Well..." Rachel looked at Brittany. 

"Go ahead," Brittany said. "You can tell them." 

"Our project facilitator, Artie, has the ability to scan your DNA and see if you’re Clan or Clan descended. When they decided to go ahead with the project, Artie scanned the whole planet looking for candidates and noticed something unusual. There were three people in Lima with enough lost Clan blood who were the right age." 

"Enough blood for what?" 

"All of the Clan equipment and tools are keyed to Clan blood. You have to have a certain amount of Clan DNA before things work for you. Like any of the weapons or spaceships or vehicles. Not enough Clan blood and they don’t work." 

"Sounds like an old TV show," Puck said. "These evil alien worms had all these fancy weapons that only they could use, though it wasn’t some DNA thing." 

"Huh," Rachel muttered. "You’ll have to tell me about that later. Anyway, it wasn’t just that there were three of us in Lima. Artie discovered something else. There was someone in Lima from one of the other Clans. And Clan technology." 

"I knew it!" Puck said. "Coach Sylvester! I’ve always thought she was an alien! No one that strange is from this planet." 

"Actually, no, Sue Sylvester doesn’t have Lost Clan blood, though she was too old for the plan anyway. They needed us to be teenagers for all of their training to work," Rachel said. 

"So, there was a real alien living in Lima?" Puck asked. 

"Correct." 

"That doesn’t add up," Kurt said. "If three of you have enough Clan blood, and Coach Sylvester doesn’t have any, why are there four of you?" 

"Because one of us is from one of the other Clans," Rachel said. 

"Must be you," Puck said. "Since the other three were Cheerios. And I think Coach Sylvester is an alien, even if you claim she isn’t one of your type of aliens." 

"Makes sense," Mercedes said. "That whole surrogate mother thing was probably faked. Has anyone else ever seen your mother?" 

"You met her," Rachel said. "Back in Lima and here. And no comments from the dad gallery," Rachel said quickly. 

"She was at dinner tonight" Kurt said. "So, Shelby Corcoran really is your mother?" 

"Yup," Rachel said, with a popping sound. 

"Shelby was the surrogate my dads hired," Rachel said. "We’re working on a relationship. We tried years ago but it didn’t work out. Things are going better now." 

"And her friend, Quinn’s sister, has lost Clan blood, she told us that this afternoon," Kurt said. "So Quinn isn’t the alien, though that would explain a lot of things." Santana burst out laughing at that. 

"Santana?" Mercedes guessed. 

"Nope, my Clan descent is completely documented, down to where they’re all buried," she said. "My mother is from here." She patted the porch. "She’s got more lost Clan blood than anyone in this room." 

"That just leaves you," Kurt said, pointing at Brittany. "You’re a real alien?" 

"Bingo," Brittany said. "The aliens, or really our AI, Artie, decided there must be something special about them because they were hanging out with someone from one of the other Clans. And that’s how it all began." 

"So..." Puck said, a little while, and two more beers, later. "You four are running the show. And all of these 'lost' Clan dudes are running around, calling themselves Mayans. Somehow you have to turn them into a real Clan. And it will take years. I get that. But who are all the Clan babes running around? Where did they come from?" 

"They’re all related to us," Rachel said. 

"It was really clever," Brittany said. "They took DNA from each of us, mixed it together with some full strength Clan DNA and grew them." 

"So, clones?" 

"Oh, no, that’s against Confederation rules," Rachel said. "They aren’t clones. They’re sort of our children." 

"Great-great grandchildren," Brittany corrected. "Related but not too closely." 

"I think some of them are a bit closer than that," Santana said. "All of my engineers are descended from Shorty here. And the best cooks in the Clan are related to Q-ball, no offence Berry dads." 

"None taken," Leroy said, Hiram nodding in agreement. "Excellent cooks all. Once the culinary world discovers them you’re going to have a hard time keeping them." 

"No one is taking Romana!" Santana said. 

"It’s okay, San," Brittany said. "She wouldn’t leave even if you fired her. I think she has a crush on you." 

"It’s you I love," Santana said. "I think you need some reminding." Slipping off of Brittany’s lap, she pulled her to her feet. "Later people, we needs our private time." Not waiting for an answer, Santana dragged a giggling Brittany off the porch and towards the beach. 

"They’re still like that after all this time?" Kurt asked. 

"More," Quinn said. "That was a bit restrained for them." 

"I think it’s cute," Rachel said. "I’d like someone like that, for hugs and cuddles, and things." 

"I’m all up for 'and things' babe," Puck said. 

"Ew, Noah," Rachel said, making a face. 

"Okay. Think any of the Clan babes would take a ride on the Puckerman?" Puck said, winking at her. "If they’re all related to all of you they should all be top shelf." 

"Keep your hands off my troopers," Quinn said, almost growling. "They don’t need the minor distraction." 

"You wound me," Puck said, dramatically slapping his chest. "The Puckerman is never a 'minor' distraction." 

"That’s not all I’ll do if I find you sniffing around any of my troopers," Quinn said. "And that goes for you too, Finn." 

"Me?" Finn said, looking at her in surprise. 

"Yes, you," Quinn said. "Don’t play innocent with me. I was your girlfriend for over a year. I’ve seen all your tricks." 

"She’s got your number, bro," Puck said, laughing at the socked expression on Finns face. 

"I take care of my girls," Quinn said. 

"You know, I’ve been meaning to ask about that," Puck said. "All of your Clan are women?" 

"So far," Rachel said. "At least for now." 

"So, you’re all lesbians?" Puck said thoughtfully. 

"No," Rachel said. "Why?" 

"Just contemplating the possibilities," Puck said, smirking. 

"Well, contemplate them in your room," Kurt said. "Some of us would rather not hear about your exploits." 

"You’re just jealous," Puck said. "The Puckerman gets more than you could ever dream about." 

"And on that note, I think it’s time to head home," Quinn said. "You coming, Rach?" 

"I think I’ll stay and talk with my dads for a bit," Rachel said. 

"Come on Puck, Finn," Quinn said. "Kurt? Are you and Mercedes okay getting back to the ship?" 

"We’ll catch the bus in a little bit," Kurt said, Mercedes nodding in agreement. 

"Call if you have any problems," she said. "Come on, guys." Standing up, Quinn stepped off the porch, landing in the sand with a quiet thump. 

"Later dudes," Puck said, joining her on the sand, Finn reluctantly following. 

"She’s different," Kurt said, once they’d disappeared down the beach. "And not just in the 'been kidnapped by aliens' way." 

"I’ve gotten used to post-kidnap Quinn," Rachel said, "but yes, she’s a bit different. At least her sister seems to think so." 

"She doesn’t have a problem with whatever your mother and her sister are doing?" Mercedes said. "I’m surprised she hasn’t blown up on that one." 

"My mother and her sister aren’t doing anything. Yet," Rachel said. "They’re just really close." 

"I don’t believe that," Kurt said. 

"Me neither," Mercedes said. 

"It’s none of our business," Rachel said. "So just leave them alone. Yes?" 

"Yes," Kurt said. "Old lesbians can be scary," he added. "How’d you deal with that old bag Ellen for a week?" 

"Watch the insults, buster," Rachel said. "Ellen isn’t bad. Portia keeps her under control. And Portia’s family." 

"Well, duh," Kurt said. 

"Not like that," Rachel said. "Well, not only like that," she corrected herself. "Portia is a distant cousin of Santana’s. So, she’s related." 

"That’s a big coincidence," Kurt mumbled. "But I’m still angry with Ellen," he said. 

"Why?" Rachel asked. "She’s harmless." 

"That TV special she did," Kurt said. "It could have been a good thing but she screwed it up. I’m surprised Brittany and Santana even talked to her. They do know about it don’t they?" 

"Brittany knew and told the rest of us," Rachel said. "They came to an understanding and Ellen apologized to them." 

"How’d she find out they’re them?" Kurt said. "You’d never have told us if we hadn’t come down here." 

"We did expect a little effort by you," Rachel said. "No freebies. But, like I said, Portia’s family, so the family decided to tell them. Did I mention that Santana’s mother and cousin, who was on Ellen also, are Mayan priestesses? They were actually expecting something to happen that day." 

* * *

"So, Q, you wanted to talk," Puck said, once they were out of sight of the others. 

"Yes," Quinn said. "You both understand that Rachel is a very important person, right?" 

"She’s your bard-person," Finn said. 

"Yes, and she doesn’t need any distractions from ex boyfriends or well meaning white knights," Quinn said, pointing at each of them to emphasise her point. 

"That was years ago," Finn said. "Besides, my mom wants to be a grandmother and I don’t think Rachel’s ready to be the mother type. She’s too busy with this alien stuff. And she seems happy. I just wanted to make sure of that." 

"Thanks, Finn," Quinn said, giving him a quick hug. "It’s going to be years, if ever, before she has time for a relationship." 

"I’m no white knight," Puck protested. "I just look out for my friends." 

"That’s great Puck, but she’s got an army and entire fleet keeping an eye on her. She doesn’t need more people protecting her. But a friend who has nothing to do with all of this would be great. She has us, but sometimes she needs something different." 

"I can do friend," Puck said, "if that’s what she really needs." 

"She won’t say so, but yes," Quinn said. "Do you guys need a ride back?" 

"Nah, the beach goes right by the cruise dock," Puck said. "Come on Finn, the game is probably still on. We can watch the rest of it in the aft lounge." 

"What game?" Finn asked. 

"Does it matter?" Puck asked. 

"No," Finn said. 

"Later guys," Quinn said. "We’ll see you again before the ship leaves." 

"And Artie?" Finn asked. "He’s the one who got us tickets." 

"And Artie," Quinn said. She stood there for ten minutes after they disappeared down the beach. 

"Way to mark out your territory," Santana said, stopping next to her, Brittany holding her hand. 

"I wasn’t marking anything," Quinn said. "What do you have planned for Artie?" 

"I’ll think of something," Brittany said. "Some kind of documentary? Or PR piece. It’d be a shame to waste the opportunity. He doesn’t reach a large audience but we can fix that." 

"If Santana wasn’t here I could kiss you," Quinn said. 

"I’m not stopping you," Santana said. "You two would be hot together." 

"Rachel might not like it," Brittany said. 

"You can kiss her also," Santana said. "Don’t they say kissing cures everything?" 

"That’s apples, San," Brittany said. "An apple a day keeps the doctor away." 

"How’s Coach working out, Q," Santana asked, as they walked up the beach, towards a small clearing behind the hotel. 

"Exactly as expected," Quinn said. "All they have to do is see her and they start confessing. I do wonder who spread the rumor that she was a CIA torturer." 

"No idea," Santana said, smirking. "Is she going to be at tomorrow’s shindig?" 

"She wouldn’t make any promises," Quinn said. "She did hint that she might be bringing a redhead down from Lima to visit." 

"Who?" Santana asked. "Do you know, Brittany?" 

"Moi?" Brittany said, grinning. "I might have suggested importing some non-local talent." 

"Talented at what?" Quinn asked. 

"Many things," Brittany said. "You’ll just have to see." 

"Sometimes, you know way too much," Santana said. 

"That’s not a bad thing," Quinn said. "Sometimes, knowing too much is what saves us." 


	6. Mommy Dearest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> **Disclaimer:** Update - 'Green Acres' - a character background hinted at, slightly borrowed but not mine.  
>  **Word Count:** 5,332 ( 6 of 9 )  
> 

Judy Fabray was many things, but happy wasn’t one of them. At the ripe old age of fifty, though she liked to think her appearance hadn’t changed in over a decade, she’d learned many things, and lost more. She had a husband she couldn’t afford to divorce, and two daughters she hadn’t seen in years. One through her own choice, and the other taken away by someone unknown and never to be seen again. Drinking had only dulled the pain, and ruined her health. 

She wasn’t quite sure where she was now. The last thing she remembered was walking down a street in Jerusalem after a very loud and public shouting match with Russell. The man became crazier and more dogmatic as he aged, and she’d about had enough of his nonsense. If the Rapture ever happened and she stayed behind, she’d be extremely happy to spend the rest of her life without his presence. 

Things were a bit blurry after that. Out of focus people asking her where her youngest was, showing her pictures of some strangely dressed woman, claiming it was her and asking when she’d last had contact. 

They hadn’t believed her when she said it had been years and that Lucy had disappeared years ago on the way home from a school trip, probably to spite her father. That was the only thing that made sense. Because that woman couldn’t be her Lucy. Her Lucy had always been a quiet girl. Shy and a bit of a bookworm. Not some hardened looking blonde Amazon. 

And the other photos? They could be Lucy’s missing friends. None of it made sense, and Russell had been adamant that the alien invasion in Mexico was a hoax. Something the Anti-Christ was using to fool people into joining him. Not that he knew who the Anti-Christ was, but their minister, the one who’d convinced Russell and a few others that moving to Israel to wait for the Rapture was the thing to do, had claimed he would reveal himself soon. 

Judy had had enough of that nonsense, and had told Russell she was going home. He could sit out in the desert and wait for the Rapture. Finding out he’d sold the house and had put their possessions into storage, the ones that hadn’t sold anyway, had been the last straw. She still had the information from the hotel contest in Cancun, he hadn’t been able to sell that, and her passport. A month near the beach to plan what to do next had seemed like a good idea. 

Her head ached, and her mouth tasted like she’d been drinking for a week, though she knew that wasn’t possible. She hadn’t had a drink of any sort in months. Their hosts at the kibbutz had been non-drinkers. Feeling around with her hands, she discovered she was laying on something soft and bed like, with a faint antiseptic smell, though not in that overbearing way like a hospital room. 

Opening her eyes, she found herself looking up at a white tile ceiling. Sitting up was a slight struggle, her arm muscles feeling weak and rubbery. But once she was more vertical than horizontal, she could see that she was on a low bed of some sort in a small featureless room. Everything was a shade of white and there wasn’t a window. She tried to move her legs off of the bed but couldn’t find the strength. 

"Please remain in the bed," a feminine voice somewhere in the room said calmly. "Someone will be with you shortly." 

"Where am I," Judy asked, her dry throat causing her to cough. 

"Someone will be with you shortly," the voice said again. This time she noticed a faint accent, as if the owner of the voice was not a native English speaker. 

Judy collapsed back onto the bed, having used up what energy she had available. She could feel the signs of an oncoming panic attack, something she hadn’t had in years, since Lucy’s disappearance. Closing her eyes, she started breathing as deeply as possible, trying to remember what the doctor had told her to do the last time this had happened. 

Her panic attack or the beginning of one had almost disappeared when she felt a hand on her forehead. Blinking, she found herself looking up at her eldest daughter, dressed in a very colorful outfit decorated with symbols that were faintly familiar, something she could imagine her great-great grandmother wearing, the granddaughter of a Mayan princess and the Hungarian mercenary who saved her from slavery, not that she’d ever told Russell, or her daughters, about that skeleton in her family closet. 

"Frannie?" Judy whispered, "You’re here?" 

"Hello Mother," Frannie said. "How are you doing?" 

"I yelled at your father," she said, her voice cracking. "He sold my house. Told me I didn’t need it anymore. I was so angry. Right in front of Minister Holkum. Called him hokum to his face right in front of the Wailing Wall." She tried to laugh at her own joke but started coughing instead. 

"Drink this," Frannie said, holding out a glass with a long straw that she seemed to pull out of thin air, as far as Judy could tell. "It’ll help." 

"Where am I?" Judy asked, after a sip of whatever was in the glass, some kind of tart juice. "What happened, I feel so tired." 

"Do you get a letter about winning a trip to Cancun?" Frannie asked. 

"Yes," Judy said, after taking another sip. "I was going to go there, I think, after I left your father. Need to decide." 

"Decide what?" 

"What to do with me," Judy said, frowning. "Was there really an invasion? Aliens? Your father said it was a plot by the Anti-Christ. It didn’t make much sense." 

"It was real," Frannie said. "No Anti-Christ." 

"Oh," Judy said sadly. "Can’t go to Cancun, then, can I. Great-grandmama used to talk about the beaches. Her mother lived in a village near them." 

"You’re welcome to stay with me," Frannie said. "We have a beach house there. Lots of sand." 

"Who is we?" Judy asked. "I’m really tired," she added. 

"We can talk later, Mother," Frannie said. 

"Stay?" Judy asked. "Please? Don’t want to lose another daughter. I miss Lucy," she said, closing her eyes. 

"I’ll be here when you wake up," Frannie said. 

"Good," Judy said. 

* * *

"That seemed to go well," Shelby said, waiting for Frannie outside. "No yelling or crying." 

"No, just a tired old woman," Frannie said. "She had a fight with Russell. I think she was on her way here when they kidnapped her." 

"Ah," Shelby murmured. "Did you want to go get something to eat? Artie will let us know when she wakes up." 

"Okay." Holding out her hand, she pulled Shelby up into a hug. "Brittany said it might take her a while to recover. She’s not young." 

"Are you going to tell Quinn?" 

"That she’s here?" 

Shelby nodded. 

"They’re all so connected," Frannie said. "It’s impossible to keep secrets like this for very long. It’s a miracle Brittany was able to keep her presence a secret while she was unconscious. Now that she’s awake, someone will blab to Quinn if I don’t tell her myself. Mother says she misses Lucy." 

"Lucy?" 

"Lucy Quinn Fabray," Rachel said, joining them at the cafeteria entrance. "Also known as Lady Q, the Hand of the Dragon, the She Devil of the Yucatan, and other lest interesting names that will baffle Clan historians centuries from now." 

"Does she know you’re writing the Sagas of Lady Quinn?" Frannie asked, laughing. 

"It’s my job to record the feats of important Clan leaders," Rachel said with a shrug. "I’m doing one for Santana also. And Brittany, though she denies she’s the one who keeps deleting it." 

"Set to music, I suspect," Shelby said, also laughing. 

"I’m working on it," Rachel said. "Quinn and Santana are easy. Brittany is slippery and defies categorization." 

"What brings you here?" Frannie asked. "This isn’t your usual hangout." 

"Hospitals? No, not really my favorite place, even a Clan hospital, with all that medical messiness kept out of sight," Rachel said. "One of my assistants discovered an allergy to a local delicacy, and fell down some stairs when her face swelled up and she couldn’t see." 

"Ouch," Shelby said. "I hope she’s alright." 

"She’ll recover, though she says she’s never eating anything that bites back again." 

"Bites back?" Frannie said. 

"You don’t want to know," Rachel said, shaking her head. "How is your mother doing?" 

"She woke up," Frannie said. "Seems a bit disoriented. That gas packs quite a punch." 

"Been there, hated that," Rachel said, wincing. "Fortunately, we have a shot. Unfortunately, it only works if you’ve been hit by that gas at least once. Her age probably doesn’t help." 

"No," Frannie said. "She’s always looked younger than she is but that didn’t help her this time." 

"You’ll want to warn her about Sophie, Santana’s cousin," Rachel said. "She hasn’t had any luck nailing down where your family branched off the Clan lineage. It leaves a hole in her diaspora theory and she’s a bit anxious about it." 

"Mother was mumbling something about the beaches of Cancun and a great grandmother, so it’s possible she actually knows something," Frannie said. "When Russell wanted to have a genealogist document her side of the family tree, she refused to participate." 

"Sounds like there’s a skeleton in that closet," Shelby said. 

"Nah, that’s just Quinn," Frannie said, smirking. "Some day, some ambitious person is going to drag her out kicking and screaming." 

"That’s not nice," Rachel said. "Outing someone without their consent is not ethical. And why do you think she’s gay?" 

"She’s been setting off my gaydar since she was ten," Frannie said. "And I’m never wrong." 

"Oh," Rachel said, looking nervously at her mother, who winked at her. 

"I’m not sure what Mother will say when she finds out," Frannie said. "Supposedly she was a bit of a rebel in college but that was a long time and a homophobic husband ago." 

"Quinn appears to have her head firmly on her shoulders," Shelby said. "I wouldn’t worry." 

* * *

"Shelby?" Rachel asked, several minutes later, while Frannie was across the room poking at something on the salad bar. 

"Yes?" 

"What’s really going on between the two of you?" 

"Right now? Friends," Shelby said. "Occasionally with benefits," She addd with a smirk. "If Quinn is anything like her sister, you might want to latch onto her before someone else does." 

"Okay, that I didn’t need to hear," Rachel said. "You know, my job includes being the official record keeper for the Clan. And Santana’s cousin is a priestess of the Dragon Clan, and can marry the two of you. Or Santana if you just want to make it official, with no ceremony." 

"Married?" Shelby said, looking faint. 

"If Frannie is anything like Quinn," Rachel said with a smirk, "she’ll be into traditions like marriage. It’s a Fabray thing." 

"Actually, Stepford wives is a Fabray thing," Frannie said, appearing suddenly behind Shelby. "Mother is a 'Douglas' and that’s a whole 'nother ball of certified crazy. Becoming a Fabray was actually a step down for her. As for marriage, that isn’t something we’ve discussed." 

"So where does the Clan fit into that?" Rachel asked. "There must be some Mayan ancestor in your family tree? And not a minor one." 

"No idea," Frannie said. 

"Lady Francine, your mother is asking for you," Artie said. 

"Shouldn’t she still be sleeping?" Frannie said. "And what’s Quinnie doing here?" She pointed out the window at several armored figures, one in the distinctive colors of the Hand. 

"Couldn’t tell you," Rachel said, "but I can distract if necessary." 

"You do that," Shelby said, waving her away. 

* * *

"Hey Quinn," Rachel said. "Are you okay?" 

Flipping her helmet down, Quinn gave Rachel a puzzled look. "Brittany said I needed to come down here." 

"And she didn’t say why, did she," Rachel said. 

"No," Quinn said. "Not even a hint. Do you know?" 

"Possibly," Rachel said, looking at the faceless troopers with Quinn. "A little privacy might be advisable." 

"We’ll meet back at the command center in two hours," Quinn said. Without a sound, they left, travelling almost faster than the eye could follow. 

"That’s creepy," Rachel said. 

"What?" 

"All the conversations I can’t hear because you’re talking over comm channels I can’t access." 

"It’s really nothing exciting," Quinn said. "They’re soldiers. You really don’t want to listen to them chatting. They can be worse than a room full of Pucks." 

"No, I don’t want to hear that," Rachel said quickly. 

"So, what’s going on," Quinn asked, laughing at her response. 

"Someone tried to kidnap your mother again and they almost got away with it," Rachel said. "Brittany’s surveillance crew was able to rescue her but she got a huge whiff of that nerve gas the Men In Black like to use. So they brought her back here to recover." 

"My mother? Is here?" Quinn asked. 

"Do you want to see her?" 

"I don’t know," Quinn said. "She probably thinks I’m dead. Seeing me will probably give her a heart attack. Does Frannie know?" 

"Yes, though she said your mother is really out of it. It made me feel crappy for days, even with the antidote. I can’t imagine how someone your mother’s age would react to the stuff." 

"Artie? Can I see my mother without her knowing?" Quinn asked. 

"Yes, Lady Q," Artie said. "Feeding your personal channel now." 

Quinn quickly put her helmet back up. 

"Rude," Rachel said, resisting the impulse to poke her. The armor looked sort of like plastic in spots but it was really, really hard, as her fingers had painfully learned. 

"I think I’ll go introduce myself to your mother," Rachel said. "You keep doing the spying thing." 

* * *

"How’s she doing?" Rachel asked, sitting down next to her mother outside of Judy Fabray’s room. 

"Still a bit out of it," Shelby said. "I don’t think she has any idea where she is. Why was Lady Q here?" 

"Brittany told her to come here, but didn’t tell her why," Rachel said. "Sometimes, Brittany can be too clever for her own good. Quinn doesn’t like anyone interfering with her personal life. She isn’t going to be too happy, once she realizes she's been manipulated into something she isn’t ready for." 

"You really care for her," Shelby said. "Do your fathers know?" 

"I’m not looking for your approval," Rachel said. "But no, they think we’re just friends. And we are. Just friends I mean." 

"You probably don’t want to hear any more of my advice," Shelby said. "But sometimes you need to just stop pretending and live your life." 

"You’re correct," Rachel said. "I appreciate the spirit in which it was given, but I don’t need it." 

"Understood," Shelby said. 

"Shelby? Could you come in here?" Frannie shouted. 

"My cue," Shelby said, shaking her head at Rachel’s laughter. "Just wait until your possible future mother-in-law summons you." 

"If you and Frannie have your way, that will be my future mother-in-law," Rachel said. "And you’ll be my mother and sister-in-law at the same time. Very disturbing. And weren’t you just summoned?" 

"Yes," Shelby muttered. "Give me a second." 

"Shelby?" Frannie shouted again. "Get that cute butt in here." 

"Cute butt?" Rachel muttered. "That cute butt better be moving." 

"As you wish," Shelby said, winking at her, though only Rachel heard her. 

"That’s not going to be me," Rachel muttered, pulling her tablet out. 

* * *

"You’re still here?" Quinn said, poking Rachel to get her attention. 

"Just hanging out," Rachel said. "You changed. Have I been here that long?" 

"Who are you hiding from?" Quinn asked, straightening her uniform. "Didn’t want to frighten her. My dirtside office is just on the other side of the parade ground. And some of us are still living on base and haven’t set up camp near the beach." 

"I sleep in my own bed," Rachel said, "when I’m here." 

"And the spare bed at your father’s beach house," Quinn said. 

"I wouldn’t want it to go to waste," Rachel said. "And they really missed me." 

"It’s fine, Rachel," Quinn said. "Family is family is Clan." 

"You could find someplace better too," Rachel said. "Just because there’s a cot in your office doesn’t mean you have to sleep there every night." 

Quinn just shrugged. "I prefer to be close to the command center." 

"You can sit and keep me company then," Rachel said. 

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked, "Other than hiding from someone." 

"No one," Rachel muttered. "I’m working on a new song. One of Santana’s Communication officers wants to start a band with some friends and asked for my help." 

"What kind of band?" Quinn asked. 

"Originally, a traditional Clan band. But most of the Clan music we have recordings of doesn’t really fit modern instruments. Mostly a drum keeping a beat or a-cappella." 

"That’s surprising. The Clans have existed for millennia. Why no fancy instruments?" 

"Different Clans have different approaches to music. And they weren’t really that bad. Ours was mostly instrument free or very martial in nature. Fortunately, we can change things. And we will," Rachel said. "This planet has such a wide variety of music. It would be a shame to not take advantage of it." 

"So, what’s your role in this enterprise?" 

"Identifying instruments that are authentic or close to authentic for all of the Clans, not just ours, and then helping them choose which ones, of those, for their band. And helping select music." 

"Sounds like you’ll be busy with that for a while," Quinn asked. 

"Only in the beginning," Rachel said. "They are all talented singers. I suspect they’ll pick up their chosen instruments in a short amount of time." 

"What have you found so far?" Quinn asked. 

"Here," Rachel said, holding her tablet so Quinn to see the screen. "There are at least twenty different instruments among the Clans. Several stringed instruments, like guitars and harps, in several different sizes. Different types of wind instruments, whistles, flutes, and such. Drums in assorted sizes. And variations on those." 

"Nothing resembling a piano, though," Quinn said, trying not to let her disappointment show. She’d learned to play under protest, an electric guitar considered too heathen by her father, but had grown to love the sound, and the privacy playing had given her. 

"If you want a piano, there are several music stores in our area," Rachel said, excitedly. "The local university has a music program. Let me know when you want to get one and we can check them out." 

"Not today," Quinn said. "I’ll need to think about it." 

"Okay," Rachel said nodding. 

"Speaking of," Quinn said. "How goes the effort to get the local schools back up and running?" 

"The grade schools and high schools are running again. Santana’s mother put a lot of effort into that. The local university is expected to start up classes soon, but they were on a break when we happened and a lot of their faculty have been unable to return." 

"Ouch. So no school until the staffing issues are solved? Do we have anyone who can fill in until then?" 

"That wasn’t an area we focused on, since we have the teaching pods. Brittany has someone going through the missing staff to see who should be allowed to return," Rachel said. "It’s a big issue we should have seen coming." 

"We can’t be expected to know everything," Quinn said. "I know we have plans for improving the educational level of our people, but that wasn’t an immediate task." 

"As long as we get moving on that," Rachel said. "If we don’t, we’ll start to lose people we can’t afford to. Not just educated but young. Right now, we aren’t giving any of them a reason to stick around long term." 

"Have they been told that we’re paying?" Quinn asked. "Within reason?" 

"Only in vague broad terms," Rachel said. "Once we have the details worked out we will." 

"Good." 

"Quinn? Did you want to see Mother?" Frannie said, sticking her head out of the room. "You can talk with her for a couple minutes." 

"Can I just see her?" Quinn asked. "The pictures Brittany took last month didn’t really seem like her." 

"Of course," Frannie said. "She’s not really up for any conversation right now anyway." 

Nodding, Quinn rose to her feet and walked over to the door, poking her head in. Shelby was sitting in a corner, reading quietly. Quinn cautiously entered the room, joining her sister at the side of their mother’s bed. "She looks so old," Quinn whispered. 

"I’m not deaf," Judy muttered, her eyes closed. "Can’t an old woman get some rest?" 

"Hello, Mother," Quinn said. 

"Has it been so long, that you must be so formal? Like your sister?" Judy asked, her eyes still closed. "I know your father and I weren’t the best parents but I was never 'Mother' to you." 

"I can’t speak for Frannie," Quinn said, "but yes, I must be this formal. It has been a lot longer for me than it has for you. Things have changed with me." 

"Frannie," Judy whispered, "if I open my eyes will my Quinnie be there or will it be some stranger with her voice?" 

"She has an accent now," Frannie said, "and she looks like she could model for one of those fitness magazines you used to read. But she’s still Quinn, if slightly more Lucy than she has been in years." 

"Oh," Judy whispered. "Please Lucy?" she said hopefully, holding out her hand. "Lucy?" 

Quinn stared at her mother’s hand, glancing quickly at her sister and Shelby, both of them waiting for her to make some kind of move. 

"Lucy? Please?" Judy said again, her voice wavering. 

Quinn cautiously reached out with her own hand, and gently grasped her mother’s. "Mamma, I missed you so much," she said, her voice cracking. She didn’t resist when Judy pulled her down into a hug. 

Frannie stepped back, and reached down to grab Shelby’s shoulder. Tugging, she pulled her to her feet and led her out of the room. Stopping in front of a curious Rachel, she gestured for silence and then she pulled Rachel to her feet with her other hand, and led both of them down to the commissary. 

"What’s going on?" Rachel asked. "Where’s Quinn?" 

"She’s with Mother. They needed some private time," Frannie said. "We’ll give them an hour." 

"She doesn’t seem like an evil person," Shelby said. "Just a sad old woman." 

"She was never evil," Frannie said. "But, at some point she just stopped being there for us, especially Quinn." 

"Quinn decided she wasn’t going to be Lucy anymore, when that happened," Rachel said. "That’s when she really changed. She thought if she did her mother would notice her again. It didn’t help." 

"How do you know that?" Frannie asked, curious. 

"When she 'grabbed' us, Artie recorded our memories. As part of being the Clan Memory I have access to them." 

"That’s kind of creepy," Frannie said, shivering. 

"And boring," Rachel said, waving her hand in a vaguely dismissive gesture. "Fortunately, Artie created a 'Good Parts' version of just the highlights."  "Can anyone see these memories?" Shelby asked, looking faint. 

"Not while we’re alive," Rachel said. "Only the Clan Memory has access. And it isn’t a record of feelings or emotions. It’s like a 3D movie with sound." 

"Oh," Shelby said. "So, if I could see your memories I wouldn’t know how you felt when we first met." 

"No, nor would they know how I felt when you decided you couldn’t handle a teenage daughter you hadn’t raised," Rachel said. 

"Did you ever apologize to Rachel for your behavior that year?" Frannie asked. "I know how you felt, but does the other person it really affected know?" 

"No," Rachel said, "she hasn’t. But she doesn’t need to. I’ve had time to understand, and I’m aware of her behavior after we left, and of how badly she felt." 

"You do?" Shelby said. 

"You realize, in the Clan there’s really no such thing as real privacy, right?" Rachel said. "Everything, and I mean everything, goes into that sponge we call Brittany’s brain and gets analyzed and stored away somewhere. Anything you’ve ever written or spoken, if it’s on a computer somewhere, she knows about it." 

"So..." Shelby looked helplessly at Frannie, "everything I’ve ever written, about... anything" 

"Yes," Rachel said. "Brittany knows how you really feel. However, she isn’t going to share that with everyone. She told me, because she thought I needed to know, but I have not seen what you actually wrote. And she knows how you feel about Frannie and how Frannie feels about you but she hasn’t told anyone. She doesn’t believe it is any of our business. Though, since this affects me directly I’m not sure why she hasn’t," Rachel said, pouting at the last. 

"if she doesn’t share any of this, what does she do with the information?" Frannie asked. 

"I’m not sure I understand it completely myself but she says it’s part of her cognitive model. It isn’t self aware, like the AI’s like Artie, but it lets her make scarily accurate predictions about how people behave in specific situations. It’s like a crowd behavior predictor, though it is actually so much more, according to her." Rachel shrugged. "It seems to be very accurate in most cases." 

"I would keep that away from the government," Frannie said. 

"Which government?" Rachel asked. "We are the government here. We certainly won’t let the Men in Black near it. I think Brittany would destroy it before letting them even see it." 

"Men in Black?" Shelby said. "Isn’t that something from a movie or conspiracy show?" 

"Movie? Oh, the Men in Black? No, that’s something very different. That was about unrealistic alien immigration. Our Men in Black are a bunch of nasty men who like kidnapping people, and torturing them until they say something they want to hear. Ours are more like the evil guys from the X-Files." 

"Who’s the cigarette man?" Shelby asked. 

"Who?  "In the X-Files, that was the guy who misdirected and cleaned things up so Scully and Mulder always failed." 

"Oh," Rachel said. "I don’t think we’ve identified anyone like that. Brittany expects to find their leaders any day now but it hasn’t happened yet." 

* * *

Quinn leaned into her mother’s hug. "I’m not Lucy anymore," she said quietly. "I’m not sure how much of me is still Quinn either." 

Releasing her from her tight grip, and leaning back against her pillow, Judy looked up at her youngest daughter. "You’re still my daughter," she said, taking a long look at her. "What does this mean?" she asked, touching a small shiny gold star on her collar. "And what are you wearing?" 

"What do you know about the Clans?" Quinn asked. 

"Scottish?" 

"No, alien," Quinn said. 

"That thing that happened in Mexico?" Judy asked. "Your father said it was fake, but your sister said it really happened. I was looking forward to seeing the place your great-great grandmother was from. But I guess it won’t be possible now." 

"She didn’t tell you where you were?" Quinn asked. "The Clan is the name for the aliens who annexed the Yucatan peninsula in Mexico, though the more accurate name is Clan of the Dragon. And you are in the Clan infirmary in our base in Chichen Itza which is right in the middle of the Clan annexation." 

"I’m in Mexico?" Judy asked. 

"Well, it used to be part of Mexico, but yes," Quinn said. "And... Great-great grandmother?" 

"Yes, great-great grandmother. Her grandmother was a priestess of the Serpent cult in Yucatan when she was kidnapped by Spanish slavers. She was rescued by a Hungarian mercenary. I can’t remember anything more. Most of her possessions were destroyed during the first world war." 

"Oh," Quinn said. "Do you remember Santana?" 

"One of the other missing girls, yes? Her mother yelled at your father," Judy said. 

"Good! I bet he deserved it," Quinn said. "Her cousin is the head priestess of the entire Serpent Cult. She would have been one if we hadn’t been kidnapped by aliens." 

* * *

"I left your father," Judy said, idly playing with Quinn’s fingers. "I just couldn’t handle his behavior any longer. He sold my house." 

"We can find you another one," Quinn said. "On the beach if you want." 

"That kind of thing costs money, Lucy," Judy said. "I have some money in a trust fund I never told your father about. It isn’t a lot but it should pay for an apartment in a nice area." 

"Money isn’t an issue," Quinn said, shaking her head. "I don’t have a salary, but I do have spending money of my own as part of the Clan. We have more gold and precious metals than we could sell in a thousand years, though it would ruin the Earth economy if they knew we had it, so we wouldn’t try." 

"Where did you get it from?" Judy asked. 

"The Clan has spaceships. And factories. And miners." 

"And they didn’t hire you just to spend money, did they," Judy said. "Am I going to like what you were kidnapped to do?" 

"Well... it wasn’t really a kidnapping. More like being shanghaied and then offered jobs," Quinn said. "But probably not, but that won’t happen for years, so we don’t need to discuss it yet. For now, all we’re doing is setting up our base on the Yucatan." 

"And this?" Judy waved at the star and uniform again. 

"The star is my rank. Gold means I’m at the top," Quinn said. "I’m in charge of our troopers." 

"Troopers?" 

"Sort of like Marines, except the ships we use are space ships, and we have real armor," Quinn said. "Sort of looks like the armor from some cartoons you used to let me watch," she added, blushing. 

"And I take it, that it wasn’t a coincidence it looks like that?" Judy asked, smiling faintly. 

"No, not a coincidence, though ours is much better." 

"And the other missing girls? Are they working for these aliens also?" 

"We’re aliens also," Quinn said. "We’ve just been living here for a while so we look like natives." 

"We are?" 

"The Mayans are descended from aliens who came here thousands of years ago," Quinn said. "So, anyone with Mayan ancestors has some Clan blood. And that’s why they picked us." 

"Are you happy?" Judy asked, tightening her grip. 

"Getting there," Quinn said. "It’s taking me a while to accept the idea that my troopers sometimes have to kill people while doing their job. But I’d rather they stay alive." 

"You have always cared," Judy said. "I suspect these troopers of yours are lucky to have you." 

"They could have ended up with Santana," Quinn said, shuddering. "That would have been a disaster. She’s much better where she is, running the fleet." 

"Oh," Judy said, yawning. "I think I need to take another nap," she said. "Will you come back later?" 

"Of course," Quinn said. She waited for her mother to fall asleep before leaving her room. "Still here?" she asked, spotting Rachel, Frannie, and Shelby in chairs in the hall. 

"Dinner?" Rachel asked all of them. 

"Something quick and simple," Quinn said. "I’m going out on patrol with Gold and Blue teams tonight." 

"Skydiving?" Frannie said, giving her a knowing look. 

"There might be some falling from high altitudes involved," Quinn said with a small grin. 

"Sometimes I wonder about your sense of self preservation," Rachel said. 

"I don’t," Frannie said. "She’s living a nerd’s dream." 

Quinn snorted. "Cafeteria or something at the beach? I’ve got time for either." 

"Beach," Rachel said. Frannie and Shelby nodded in agreement. 

"Okay, I’ll call for transportation." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think making Judy Fabray the daughter of the main characters of 'Green Acres' ( Lisa and Oliver Douglas) really makes this a Green Acres crossover. I just find the idea amusing. Don't expect any Green Acres characters to appear, and no parts of this story will be set in Hooterville.


	7. Search and Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 7,031 ( 7 of 9 )

"What do we have?" Quinn asked, joining Brittany and Santana on the command channel, automatically assuming command in the impending crisis. 

"The cruise ship that stopped in Cancun disappeared while crossing the Bermuda Triangle," Brittany said. "It’s been missing for two days." 

"Anyone we know on it?" Santana asked. "What! I need to know how angry I should be," she said. 

"The Gleeks flew home when it stopped in Rio," Brittany said. "So, just a bunch of those pseudo-spies and a few Apocalypse tourists who optioned to take the cruise ship home. And the crew, of course." 

"Do we have any idea where it went?" Quinn asked. "Any theories?" 

"We’re scanning for it now," Santana said. "If it’s on the planet, in pieces larger than a football, we’ll find it. Eventually. Very big haystack, even if it was in one piece." 

"So, who took it?" Quinn asked. "Our favorite evil villains? Someone else? Santa Claus?" 

"I don’t think Santa steals cruise ships full of foolish people," Santana said. 

"Brittany?" 

"Right. The Men in Black up to their old tricks. This time, they’ll probably blame us." 

"Of course," Santana said. "Where’s the short one?" 

"Doing her job. Dealing with the President," Brittany said. "He called her as soon as the disappearance hit the cable news." 

"We don’t answer to him," Quinn said warningly. 

"No, but he’s an ally," Brittany reminded them. "An important one." 

"The Queen is important too," Santana said. "To our little Quinnie, anyway." 

"Not relevant," Quinn said. "Unless one of you think the Queen is behind this?" 

"Of course not, Sir Quinnie," Santana said, laughing. 

"You’re luck this isn’t one of Artie’s virtual reality comms," Quinn said. "You’d so get your ass kicked." 

"Whenever you feel ready," Santana said. "I know just the place. Your anime armored ass is going down." 

"Ladies, enough with the alpha-ness," Brittany said loudly. "Time to find that cruise ship. And Rachel wants us to join her, the President, and Coach on her private comm. Artie will handle the switch." 

"Coach? This is going to be a blast," Santana said. 

"If we survive," Quinn muttered. 

"Switching over... now," Artie said. 

"Mr President, you now have the entire Council, and our Chief Investigator, here," Rachel said. Lady Air, our Fleet commander, Lady Hand, our Force commander, and you’ve met the Shadow of the Council. You already know Sue, Lady Sylvester." 

"Ladies, what can you tell me about this disappearance," he asked. 

"We’re currently looking for it," Santana said. "As soon as we find it we’ll deal with whomever took it. Easy." 

"The cruise line wants their ship back," he said. "The public wants the people back. The French Ambassador’s niece was on that ship." 

"The cruise line is no longer a problem," Brittany said. "The public will have to be patient. We’ll keep an eye out for the niece though we can’t make any promises. We should know something before the end of the day, Mr President." 

"We don’t own a cruise line now, do we Britt?" Santana said, rare disapproval clear in her voice. "We can’t buy our way out of every problem." 

"We don’t have disaster insurance," Brittany said. "And not even Lloyd's of London will insure us right now. So, it only makes sense to be self insured. But no, we now own a cruise ship, not the entire company." 

"What are we going to do with it?" Santana asked. 

"Not important right now," Quinn said. "I’m sure we can do something with it." 

"They’re getting clever," Brittany said. "They’re trying to bankrupt us with schemes like this. But we can keep it up longer than they can. They don’t have our resources." 

"You know who is behind this," the President said. 

"Little men, in black suits, who think they should run the world," Sue said, her voice dripping with disdain. "You’re familiar with their type, Bud. Remember Saigon? And Budapest?" 

"It’s the same people?" 

"Unlikely. New group following the old playbook. Obviously someone forgot to burn every copy," Sue said. "They never learn. The Ladies here outclass them. They remind me of us in our prime, except they’ve been trained by the best." 

"We’ll keep you informed, Mr. President," Quinn said. "If you’ll excuse us, we have a ship to find and an annoyance to squash. Lady Sylvester will be you informed." 

"Thank you for your time," he said, clearly relieved. They all murmured a response. 

"The line is now clear," Artie said a minute later. 

"Well, that went better than I expected," Rachel said. "Thank you Ms. Sylvester. It would have been impossible without you." 

"Bud and I go way back, though he’ll never admit it," Sue said. "You just need to know how to handle him." 

"So, do we have a location yet?" Rachel asked. 

"We know where it disappeared from down to the last inch," Santana said. "Then the trail just ends, as if something was shielding it." 

"Do the Annoying Ones in Black have that kind of tech?" Quinn asked. 

"Shielding’s easy," Santana said. "You just need the right material to put between yourself and the scanners." 

"I thought our scanners could see through any material here," Rachel said. "It must be something from a different planet, or something unusual." 

"Obviously, since they’ve found a way to block us," Quinn said. "Artie?" 

"Rescanning using new parameters," Artie said. "Lady Rachel is correct. In order to block our scans they need something not found on this planet or a combination of materials." 

"So, something made out of a rare metal, like from an asteroid?" Rachel asked. "Didn’t an asteroid hit the Yucatan millennia ago?" 

"The one that supposedly killed off the dinosaurs?" Brittany said. "Yes, but it shouldn’t affect our scanners. They’re using some kind of active shielding." 

"How would they know to shield against our scanners?" Rachel asked. 

"Probably guessed," Santana said. 

"Or they have access to old Clan tech. There is a lot of equipment that isn’t accounted for. When the original Clan leadership disappeared, their equipment went somewhere," Brittany said. "Luckily, ours is much more advanced, several thousand years newer than anything they might find. And better than anything they could build with known Earth tech." 

"And... got it," Santana said. "They’re definitely using an old shielding frequency. Now that we know it’s there we can easily penetrate it, right Artie?" 

"Correct, Lady Air." 

"This means we should be able to find old Clan artifacts also, right?" Rachel asked. 

"Yup," Brittany said. "Now that Artie has the frequency, we should find anything that was hidden using the old tech." 

"Huh," Santana said. "Scanning the Clan annex. There’s a large area setting off our sensors, northeast of the Cancun beaches." 

"How big?" Quinn asked. 

"Big enough to hide a small cruiser," Santana said. "It’s right within the area we’ve claimed." 

"So, no fighting over it," Rachel said. 

"We’d win," Santana said. "They’ve just been lucky." 

"No contest," Quinn added. "Our tech beats their tech." 

"So, when can we go look?" Rachel asked. 

"After we get that cruise ship back," Quinn said. "Which means..." 

"Oh, right," Rachel said. 

"We need to know where it is so we can plan," Brittany said. "And we’re going to need med support. They’ve probably been keeping them under using that nerve gas. Clan can recover quickly from that, but normal humans? They’re going to need a hospital." 

"Is it a Clan invention?" Rachel asked. "If it affects us less?" 

"No," Artie said. "The available samples contain no Clan chemicals. Humans invented this." 

"What about Quinn’s mother?" Rachel asked. "She hasn’t completely recovered from the gas yet." 

"They gave her a large dose. It would have been worse," Brittany said. "She’s not full Clan but her family line is strong." 

"Which means?" Quinn asked. 

"We measure Clan genetic strength in family lines," Brittany said. "All Clan families interbred with natives but some did it earlier than others. The further back you go, the less genetic strength a family line has. The Mayan priestesses and princesses have stronger family lines because they stayed purer genetically speaking for much longer. After a certain level, a family line may no longer be considered Clan genetically if the genetic drift is too great." 

"Do we have any non-genetic Clan descendants?" Rachel asked. "And, if we do, how do we integrate them back into the Clan?" 

"Artie?" 

"Lady Memory, several family lines have been detected that are close, but are still several generations away," Artie said. "The only way to stop the genetic drift is for these families to join with clan families with stronger genetics." 

"Which we can’t force," Rachel said. "Is there any kind of treatment that can be offered to strengthen a genetic line?" 

"The idea may have merit." Artie said. "Research will be required." 

"How do we compare?" she asked. "Quinn’s great-grandmother was a priestess, and Santana would have been one herself, so I assume their family lines are strong." 

"Lady Air’s family line is still ninety percent pure," Artie said. "Lady Quinn’s family line is sixty percent pure, as is yours. That is rare for members of the Diaspora. Most diaspora family lines have fallen to twenty five percent pure." 

"What does that mean?" Quinn asked. 

"Priestess Sophia is studying this issue," Artie said. "Her current belief is that Lady Quinn and Lady Memory belong to multiple family lines that have merged." 

"Can’t you tell that with your advanced tools?" Santana said. "I know we aren’t exposing most of the fancier tech to this planet, but you should be able to build very accurate charts of all Clan and human family lines so we don’t have to guess." 

"There was some concern among the Clans, much as with what you term 'cloning', that the Confederation not interfere with the family lines. Lady Sophia, as the Clan head priestess, has the authority to look at Clan family lines in the way you are asking. We do not." 

"Does my cousin know this?" Santana asked. 

"Not until she becomes one of the Nine," Artie said. 

"Not until?" Rachel asked. "Could she become one of us? And which Council role?" 

"Her selection must be approved by the Confederation," Artie said. "But she shows all of the signs of one suited for the Council." 

"Isn’t that our decision?" Quinn said, "As the current members of the Council, don’t we have a say over who joins us?" 

"That is only true of a full Clan Council of Nine," Artie said. "If you wish to begin the process of elevating her to the Nine, you must request it." 

"And her role?" Rachel repeated. "Would her in that role serve an important purpose?" 

"The Head Priestess has traditionally filled the role of Weaver," Artie said. "The Weaver looks after the spiritual health of the Clans." 

"So, do we need religion right now?" Santana said. "And what religion?" 

"The Clans are not traditionally religious," Rachel said. "At least not the way we have it on Earth. It is more of a general belief in something beyond physical life. Something spiritual but at a personal level. Or at least that is how I interpret things."  "Well, that’s nice and vague. I vote no to religion as a Clan thing," Santana said. "We don’t need the messy thing right now." 

"I think we need a spiritual person," Quinn said. "Someone who can guide our Clan through any spiritual awakenings that will inevitably happen. But I agree, no organized religion. Our people are aware that such things exist but, since they aren’t asking for it, I see no reason to give it to them." 

"And those with an existing religion?" Rachel asked. "What do we do with the thousands of people who do believe in or need a religion in order to express their spirituality?" 

"Weak," Sue said. "Weed them out. Cannon fodder." 

"Coach Sylvester!" Rachel said, gasping in horror. 

"Lady Sylvester has made an important point," Artie said. "You need to deal with your people who need a connection to the universal oneness. If they are not provided some guidance, they will be a weakness. And this world seems to have a heavy resistance to follow those who do not believe in some deity." 

"That’s a polite way to say some people go bat-shit crazy if they can’t go to church, and pray to their god," Santana said. "So, do we need an official religion so we’re like everyone else? Yes or no?" 

"Yes, but no human sacrifices," Rachel said. 

"No on the human sacrifice," Quinn said. "No beef with God." 

"Female goddess, no living creature sacrifices," Brittany said. "With different aspects based on the Nine." 

"What?" Santana said. "Why?" 

"We need something, right?" Brittany said. "We all agree on that." 

"Yes..." Santana said. 

"So, we take the pre-Christian Mayan religion and tweak it a bit. Do a bit of a sex change on some of the big gods, since they were male. It’ll feel realer and we just have to say that the Mayan religion has drifted away from the original and we follow the original. It’ll be easier for our people and Clan descendants. And our people already sort of worship us." 

"Um... Okay," Rachel said. "But I don’t want to be worshipped." 

"Don’t worry, Shorty, you’ll like it when it’s the right person," Santana said. 

"So, do we want to add a fifth to the Council?" Rachel asked. "The Weaver? Can we trust Sophia? Santana, she’s your cousin." 

"She’s good people," Santana said. "Healthy ego but no megalomania. If you need a second opinion, ask my mother." 

"Anyone else have an opinion?" Rachel asked. 

"I’m with Santana," Brittany said. "No signs of nastiness anywhere in anything she’s done or written." 

"Fine with me," Quinn said. "I’m going with agnostic myself - there’s some kind of higher power out there, in my educated former Christian opinion, but I’ve had enough of the ones we grew up with. They don’t make me happy." 

"Coach?" Rachel said. "Do you want to offer an opinion? You’re not officially on the Council but you may see things we don’t." 

"Not an evil bone anywhere," Sue said. "Tricky, like all intellectuals, but she believes her mumbo-jumbo. She won’t turn this Clannish thing you are building into a holy war. She listens to what you really say. Might take some convincing." 

"Okay. Artie? Can you start the process?" 

"Yes, Lady Memory." 

"Good meeting," Sue said. "Need to get back to work turning soldiers into peacekeepers. Ladies, later." 

"Lady Sylvester has now turned her attention elsewhere," Artie said, after a brief pause. 

"Artie, you make an excellent meeting coordinator," Brittany said, with a giggle. "So, mastodon in the room," she said. "What about Sue?" 

"What about her?" Rachel said. "I’ve always found her scary but every Clan member I’ve asked likes her. They all love her blend of crazy bluntness." 

"She’s an original," Quinn said. "Finding out her stories are true, that she was a Seal, and knows the President, surprising but not a shock." 

"Has her own agenda," Santana said. "She’s with us, but she’s still loyal to her idea of country." 

"So, no taking over the world," Brittany said. 

"Not as such," Santana said. "Has anyone told her why we’re really doing this? Other than basing the Clan here to keep the peace in this part of the Galaxy?" 

"Not that I’m aware of..." Quinn said. 

"No," Rachel said, "but I haven’t spent much time with her." 

"She’s been fully briefed," Brittany said. "We need her cooperation and it was the best way." 

"Oh," Rachel said. 

"And she agreed?" Santana said. "She hasn’t said anything." 

"She’s a realist, most of the time," Brittany said. "She doesn’t expect to live long enough to be a part of the world we’ll need to defeat the Enemy." 

"Why not?" Rachel asked. 

"She’s already in her fifties," Brittany said. "We have her doing an extremely dangerous job." 

"She’d in charge of our police force for the annexation," Rachel said. "How dangerous is that?" 

"Coach leads from the front," Quinn said. "But she isn’t Clan. Or even descended from one of our lines. We’ve got her in one of the best hard suits we could make but some of the more advanced protective features only work for Clan." 

"We don’t do suicide missions," Rachel said, appalled. "Fix this!" 

"I’m sure Coach will be tickled that you care," Santana said. "But it’s her choice. She wants to go out doing something worthwhile, and helping create a safe place for the Clan that will protected this world and our corner of the galaxy is something she feels is worthwhile." 

"I don’t like it," Rachel said. 

"You don’t have to," Quinn told her. "But I’m sure one of your epics about her deeds would be welcome, though she’d never thank you." 

"One of my epics?" Rachel said, trying to be nonchalant. Suspicions about Brittany aside, she hadn’t realised that any of them knew about her efforts to write inspiring tales about them for their people. 

"Yup," Brittany said. "That would be brilliant! And I bet that Sue-groupie who works for the president would be a great source of Sue-isms." 

"She has groupies? That aren’t Q-troops?" Santana said, smirking. 

"No teasing," Brittany said. "I’m sure Coach doesn’t know and wouldn’t be happy to find out." 

* * *

Rachel watched Quinn inspect her team before they loaded onto the transport. There was something about watching the way Quinn seemed to memorize her troopers before a battle that Rachel couldn’t resist watching. Especially when the chance of disaster was so great. 

They didn’t expect a lot of resistance from the Men in Black but there were too many unknowns. There were no guarantees. They knew they would be facing some Clan tech but not how much. Or even what it was, other than it should be based on older, obsolete designs. 

"Looking good," Quinn said, nodding. "Remember, we want the passengers alive. All known passengers have been entered into your recognition systems. All identification cues for the Men in Black have also been entered." 

"She has a certain something when she does that, doesn’t she," Brittany said, standing next to Rachel. "Makes you want to pop her out of her suit and lick her all over." 

"No. No!" Rachel said, protesting. "There will be no licking of any Quinn parts." 

"No worries," Brittany said. "Plenty of time. Clan means a long life. Council of Nine means an even longer life." 

"What do you mean?" Rachel said, unconsciously licking her own lips as she continued to watch Quinn. 

"You realize that there is rarely any turnover in a Clan Council, right?" Brittany said. "Unless something kills us, we’re going to live for quite a long time." 

"So, the original Lost Clan Council members were killed? They didn’t die of old age," Rachel said. 

"Yes," Brittany said. "We will age, but slowly on a galactic scale. If Artie’s calculations are correct, compared to standard humans we physically age one hour for one year of real time." 

"That means... I can’t do that kind of math in my head," Rachel said. 

"A really long time," Brittany said. "And it will be lonely if you don’t have someone to share it with." 

"I have you, Quinn, and Santana," Rachel said. "And Artie, of course." 

"You have us as friends," Brittany said, poking her. "But don’t you need more? Your parents won’t live as long as us, even with the advanced Clan medicine. Who’s going to kiss you, hug you, sex you?" 

"I don’t know," Rachel said, her eyes being drawn back involuntarily to Quinn as she made her way down the row of armor clad troopers. 

"Thought so," Brittany muttered. "You might want to let her know before someone else attracts her attention." 

"Let her know what?" Rachel asked, glancing at Brittany. 

"You’re worse than she is," Brittany grumbled. "You both need to get your acts together." 

"What acts?" Rachel asked, certain she was missing something important. 

"Argh!" Brittany growled. "I have to get ready. Santana is saving you a seat." 

"Saving me a seat?" Rachel said, puzzled, watching her stomp out of the drop ship dock. Turning back to Quinn, she noticed that all of the troopers had boarded their drop ships, and Quinn was headed her way. 

"What’s wrong with Brittany?" Quinn asked. 

"I don’t know," Rachel said, startling herself with how loud her voice was. "Make sure you come back in one piece," she added. 

"That’s the goal," Quinn said, smiling mischievously. "It would set a bad example for the others if I didn’t." 

"Well, I want you back in one piece also," Rachel said. "I haven’t finished your epic yet and I’d hate the last sentence to be 'and she died a glorious death' or words to that effect." 

"Don’t the heroes of Clan epics do that? Go out in a blaze of glory?" 

"Not fighting pesky little men with deplorable taste in clothes," Rachel said. "These aren’t epic worthy foes, they’re thieves." 

"Okay, though thieves are just as if not more dangerous. Professional soldiers tend to retreat or surrender when an over whelming force attacks. These thieves are like cornered rats. Vicious to the end." 

"So be extra careful," Rachel said. Stepping inside Quinn’s personal space, she tugged on her helmet seal, attempting to pull Quinn down to her level. 

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked, leaning forward. 

"Good luck kiss," Rachel said, taking advantage of Quinn’s unintentional closeness to kiss her cheek with a hum, ignoring the taste of the face cream all troopers wore to protect their skin in their hard suits over extended periods of time. 

"Um, thanks," Quinn said, blushing faintly, to Rachel’s interested eyes. "Need to get going, we’re on a timetable." 

"Go!" Rachel said, stepping back. Nodding, Quinn reached up and finished activating her suit, causing the helmet to drop down and cover her face. 

Rachel waited until Quinn was aboard the drop ship and the door was closed before leaving the docking bay. 

* * *

"Said your good-byes?" Santana asked, after Rachel had slipped into the observer chair on her command deck. 

"Goodbyes?" Rachel said. 

"Gave her a kiss and sent her on her way," Santana said. "Typical." 

"Yes..." Rachel said. "It seemed liked the thing to do at the time." 

"Good for you, munchkin," Santana said. "Make yourself comfortable, it’s all up to the Q-troops from here." 

"Can’t we help?" 

"We already did," Santana said. "The shield over the cruise ship is lit up like the Empire State Building at Christmas. Q’s troopers will slide right through it." 

"Oh," Rachel said. "And Brittany? Where’s she?" 

"With her tech kids, waiting for the all clear," Santana said. 

"Does she usually wait for Quinn to finish?" Rachel asked. "Doesn’t she have all of that ninja spy training?" 

"A battlefield is a very different kind of place from where she usually operates," Santana said. "Britt is too valuable to risk in something like that except in an emergency. She specializes in sneaking in, doing something, and sneaking out without being seen." 

"Do you ever want to go in with Quinn’s troopers?" Rachel asked. 

"Not happening. Me no likey. I did it once on a training jump," Santana said. "It was wild but it isn’t my place. Quinn just seems to have a sixth sense for maneuvering through that kind of chaos. Makes me want to throw up." 

"I’d like to do it at least once," Rachel said. "To know how it feels for all of them." 

"Plenty of time for that," Santana said. A loud gong sounded, and activity in the command center increased. "Hold your hats people, the Q’s are about to drop!" The large screen in front of them lit up, showing a large island in the middle of a larger body of water. As they watched, there were brief flashes of light, each followed by a clear ping. 

"Gold Team through," A calm voice began. "Red Team through. Blue Team through. Green Team in place on the outer perimeter. Shadow Team in place. Medi Team ready." 

"So much for the excitement," Santana said, glancing at Rachel. "Now we wait to hear from Q." 

"Can we listen to their comm channels?" Rachel asked. "Or watch their video?" 

"We could, but we won’t," Santana said. 

"Why not?" Rachel asked. The entire Clan was never out of communication. 

"Too confusing," Santana said. "And Q wants her troopers focused on the fight and not worried what others might hear or see them do. And it’s too tempting for us to want to interfere. But don’t worry. Artie does a great after battle analysis from all comm traffic. Video and audio. Wrapped up in a neat little bow. I’m sure you’ve seen them." 

"Is that how those videos are created," Rachel said. 

"If we’re lucky, Q will feed us some battle video, once things calm down." 

* * *

Quinn could feel the buffeting as her hard suit cleared the shield. It wasn’t a perfect resonance match between her suit and the older shield but close enough. In the back of her mind she could hear the clear ping of each trooper as they followed her and the other team leaders through the shield. 

Down below them was a large, rocky, volcanic island. As she made her controlled descent, Quinn started sending video back to her command center for them to analyse for any potential surprises. And any tech that had escaped their scans. There had been almost nothing in the pre-attack scans. Just some conventional guided missiles and guns. Brittany had been unwilling to speculate about the lack of any Clan tech, beyond the shields. 

Hitting the ground with a soft thump, Quinn checked the location of all her troops. This wasn’t a full troop drop, or even close. But she automatically checked off where each team had converged. 

"This is Top," she said, "Anyone catch a glimpse of that cruise ship?" 

"Nothing on my scanners," Pin said. "But there is a large cavern that I can’t read." 

"Same, boss," Whist said. "There seems to be a large concentration of life signs coming from it." 

"The techs are reporting camouflaged movement on the north end of the island," Bobbi said. 

Quinn hooked her command channel into the tech feed. "What can you show me," she asked Master Tech Jantel. 

"Boss, it’s reading like mechs from the Tiger Clan, from the Blue Sky wars," she said. "Here are the stats." Jantel dumped the profile of a large mech, twice the size of current clan mechs used on hostile surfaces, to Quinn’s comm. 

"That’s large," Quinn said. "How many do you see?" 

"A ten pack," Jantel said. "They’re using an older shield frequency. But not the same one as the island shield." 

"Life signs?" Quinn asked, grimacing. Her troopers could easily handle a ten pack of suits meeting that profile but the mech pilots would suffer a lot of damage. 

"Human," Jantel said. "All male." 

"Okay. Blue Team Leader, they’re all yours," Quinn said, sending a suggested attack plan. 

"Got it Boss," Blue Team Leader replied. On her command screen, Quinn watched Blue Team as it moved to the north. The Tiger Clan mechs flickered in and out of her screen before finally solidifying. "Good job Jantel. Anything else catch your attention?" 

"Thanks Boss. There’s a heavily shielded area near that cavern. Reads like one of those Soviet fission plants. Leaking harmful material across a broad spectrum. No life signs." 

"Okay, get a decontamination team down from Fleet to clean it up. Titan team will provide cover." 

"Got it Boss," Jantel said. 

"Fleet?" Quinn said over the command channel. "Titan will provide cover for the decon team. Titan Team Lead will co-ordinate." 

"Affirmative, Lady Q," the Fleet battle coordinator responded. "Decon Team One, with Titan Team cover and coordinate." 

"Boss?" 

"Yes, Bobbi?" Quinn said. 

"Looks like they weren’t expecting any company," Bobbi said. "The only real resistance has been that Tiger mech ten pack the Blue Team is clearing. We’ve rounded up all of their other surface guards without a fight." 

"Have we found an entrance to the cavern yet?" Quinn asked. "Or any sign of that ship?" 

"The Shadows have found two different entrances," Whist said. "One big enough to drive a cruiser through and another smaller one." Quinn’s screen shifted to display the two doors. 

"Let’s join Lady Shadow at the smaller one," Quinn said, after sending a query to Brittany for her status. "Looks like they’re about to break through." 

"Yes, Boss," Whist said. 

After sending a battle plan update to her command center, Quinn led the way to a large clearing on the west side of the island. 

"Hey, Britt," Quinn said, stopping next to Brittany. "You have something for me?" 

"Typical Men In Black construction," Brittany said. "Booby trapped. We’ll be through it shortly." She waved at two of her staff 

"What about the other door?" Quinn said. 

"That is a horse of a different color," Brittany said, "to borrow a phrase from the little people." 

"Little people?" Quinn said, glad her helmet covered her face. Brittany’s thought processes often baffled her. 

"Munchkins," Brittany said, giggling. "The other door, on the other hand, is a Type III Tiger Clan blast door." 

"Which means..." 

"That this entire island is most likely a Clan artifact. The Men in Black found it and have been making use of Clan tech." 

"But that means they have Clan blood," Quinn said, "to use Clan tech." 

"No," Brittany said. "They’ve apparently been able to reverse engineer ancient Clan tech. Something that doesn’t require Clan blood." 

"Do we know what they’ve reverse engineered?" 

"Shield controls, mech controls, possibly other control tech," Brittany said. 

"Controls. So not the underlying tech?" Quinn said. 

"Not to be too snobby, but even thousand year old Clan tech is still beyond the scientists of this world. They’ve just figured out how to turn some of it on." 

"Good," Quinn said. "So, they somehow found this island and turned it into a base of their own. And Blue Team is fighting humans in Tiger Clan mech, that they found on this island. Which means, unless some of them have Clan blood, they don’t stand a chance." 

"Exactly. More or less," Brittany said. 

"Boss?" 

"Yes, Pin?" 

"That ten pack is down," Pin said. "They had no idea how to fight." 

"Casualties?" 

"Ours - none. Them - two fatal. They over-wound their mechs." 

"The Men In Black haven’t been a challenge for my troopers yet," Quinn told Brittany. "The island appears to be ours. We just need to get inside this." 

"They’re a secret organization," Brittany said. "Large scale maneuvers against opponents in alien armor? Not their strong point." 

"So, the door. Should we be opening the other one first?" Quinn asked. 

"It would take a Fleet cruiser to burn down those doors," Brittany said. "And everything on the other side. Or the combination. We want the passengers alive. This way is faster." 

"Okay," Quinn said. "What do you need from me?" 

"Phila and Dot have been training with us for just this kind of operation," Brittany said, waving at two of Quinn’s troopers in the clearing. "They know our methods." 

"So, step back and let you do your thing?" 

"You know me so well," Brittany said, her grin obvious from the sound of her voice, even through her helmet. 

* * *

"No casualties?" Rachel said, reading the after-action report. "Not even a clumsy trooper tripping over their own feet?" 

"None of my troopers are clumsy," Quinn said, glaring at her from across the long table. 

"Why all the Tiger Clan tech?" Santana asked. "Shouldn’t it have been Dragon Clan tech?" 

"I’d like to know that also," Quinn said. 

"Artie?" Brittany said, raising her voice. "Can you explain that one?" 

"From the base records, it appears that the Dragon Clan was not large enough to fulfill the commission and a contingent of Tiger Clan troopers were hired to make up the numbers. The island was their base." 

"That’s good?" Rachel asked. 

"Yes," Santana said. 

"The access protocols were slightly different at that time," Artie said. "Any knowledge of Tiger Clan tech your Men In Black have won’t apply to current Dragon Clan tech." 

"So, we still have that advantage," Brittany said. "Our tech is newer, faster, and more reliable." 

"Have all of the passengers recovered?" Rachel asked. 

"There are several still in comas," Brittany said. "The medi-techs are not sure when or if they’ll recover. The rest have been sent on their way." 

"And the French Ambassador’s niece?" Rachel asked. 

Brittany giggled. "She’s petitioned to stay. She’s become attached to one of the Medi staff." 

"Oh," Rachel said. "So, I should expect to hear from her uncle?" 

"Yup," Brittany said, still giggling. 

"How many Men In Black did we catch?" Santana asked. 

"Fifty," Brittany said, serious again. "Mostly minions." 

"Has anyone asked that we turn them over? Government agency? Government? The UN?" Quinn asked. 

"Not a peep," Brittany said. "If they know we have them, they aren’t admitting it. Our jail cells are getting a bit overcrowded. We’re going to have to start freezing them." 

"Freezing them?" Rachel said. "Isn’t there a better way to deal with them? And how many of these people do we have?" 

"This is our first real 'catch’," Brittany said. "They usually resist and end up dying. And if we don’t freeze them, we need to house and feed them. Freezing’s a better option, long term. Once someone’s put 'in the freezer' it takes almost no energy to keep them there." 

"Well, we need to plan ahead," Rachel said firmly. "We can’t freeze them and forget that we have them. Someday, someone will want them back." 

"So, no 'freeze and forget'," Santana said. "Got it." 

"Is the ship salvageable?" Quinn asked, pulling up a 3D image of the battered looking cruise ship. 

"It would need some serious work to be sea worthy again," Santana said. "They really did a number on it to get it into that cave." 

"What did they want it, and the passengers, for?" Rachel asked, chewing on her lip. "Didn’t they know these were not the spies they were looking for?" 

"Cute," Santana muttered, glaring at her. "Brittany?" 

"We’re still analyzing the intel we pulled," she said. "But it appears that none of the minions on the island knew why the ship was taken there. They were waiting for orders when we shut them down." 

"So, they wasted a base," Santana said. "Maybe a distraction?" 

"I haven’t detected anything else going on," Brittany said. "But, if it was, it must have served its purpose." 

"Was there any useful info on the Lost Clan on the island?" Rachel asked the other three. "Historical records?" 

"Anything not nailed down, they took," Santana said. "The only reason those Tiger Clan mechs were still there, beyond the obvious, was that their power source was on the island. Take them away from the island and they stop working." 

"Is that a common design?" Rachel asked. 

"Not for us," Quinn said, looking up from her tablet. "Our tech is all self contained and flexible. But that generation of Tiger tech appears to be tethered to a place for power. Which is fine for defensive purposes. As long as your base is under your control, your mechs never run out of power." 

"Okay," Rachel said, making a note on her tablet. 

"Why do you want to know this?" Santana asked, curious. 

"Just thinking," Rachel said, blushing. "The more I know, without the really tough science, the better I can document things." 

"So you’re turning this little adventure into another one of your epic poems?" Brittany asked. "Do we get to hear it this time?" 

"When it’s done," Rachel said. "Of course." 

"Well, if you can make that dud of an op exciting, you’ll have earned your wings, Clarence," Santana said. 

"I’d prefer non-exciting ops against the Men In Black," Quinn said. "Exciting ones mean we missed something." 

"So, we’re done with this? What did the Pres have to say?" Santana asked. 

"Thanks," Rachel said. "Not much else he could say. We got back the ship. Got back the passengers, though not quite in original shape. We used it as PR so people think we’re being good citizens of the planet. Which we are. The President gave a speech thanking us." 

"All according to plan," Brittany added. 

"What about other Lost Clan tech?" Santana asked. "When are we going after it, now that we know how to find it." 

"I’d like to check out that area off Cancun first," Brittany said. "It’s the real mystery. We’ve found a few small caches of things, mostly broken weapons and personal tech but no records." 

"I want to come with," Rachel said. 

"Are we going to make a big production out of it?" Quinn asked. "Gold Team can participate if you need hands." 

"Okay, let’s plan this thing," Santana said. "Let’s keep this to ourselves, Clan comm, for now. No need to set off a gold rush on old Clan tech. We already have the Men in Black out there looking for more tech to exploit." 

"A little PR might be good, actually," Brittany said. "Let people know that there are Lost Clan artifacts out there, and that they only work for Clan, which is mostly true. We can even offer a finder’s fee, within reason." 

"Won’t that put our people at risk?" Quinn asked. "Someone’s going to get kidnapped and experimented on to see how this 'Clan only' tech works." 

"We already have that problem," Brittany said. "I think we can use this to our advantage." 

"I vote no on getting kidnapped again," Rachel said, frowning. 

"That’s what your bodyguards are for," Brittany said. "Remember? It won’t happen again." 

"So, do a doc on this new discovery, but don’t mention the 'Clan Only' aspect?" Santana asked. 

"Yes," Quinn said. "We’ll just say it’s broken. Or needs special power or new batteries. Or something less risky." The others nodded in agreement. 

"Who do we have who can do it?" Santana asked. "We want the human touch. No offense intended, Artie," she added. 

"Understood," Artie said. 

"Artie," Brittany said. "Gleek Artie." 

"Do we have to pay him?" Santana asked. "I’m sure he owes us. For something." 

"We bought his production company," Brittany said, with a giggle, "though he has no idea." 

"Britt?" Santana said carefully, holding up her hands to stop the others from speaking. "What did we agree on?" 

"No more buying hotels, restaurants and other things that Quinn might have to destroy?" Brittany said. 

"That too," Santana said. "We can’t keep buying things. People aren't going to like it if we end up owning the whole planet." 

"If we’re going to have camera people running around, we need to control them," Brittany said. 

"Shorty?" 

"I think it will be useful," Rachel said. "We can do better video and sound, because Clan tech is so much better, but we need experienced technicians. Camera-people, directors, producers. We can train our people the technical parts but they need someone to learn the emotional part from. Owning Artie Abrams Productions gets our people that." 

"Q?" 

"Leave me out of it," Quinn said. "No untrained, embedded reporters are going on drops with my troopers." 

"You too will be assimilated," Brittany said, before giggling. 

"Embedded reporters? Do we need something like that?" Rachel asked. 

"No," Santana said. "We already have Artie making action reports from ops recordings. We talked about that. We record everything already." 

"Oh, right," Rachel said. "So, we’re only going to have G-Artie make movies or documentaries for viewing by others. Non-Clan." 

"G-Artie?" Santana asked. 

"Glee Artie," Brittany said. "I wish I’d thought of that," she said, pouting. 

"So, propaganda," Quinn said. "I have no problem with that, as long as Brittany keeps her wiz kids under control. No budding Leni Riefenstahls. We want Truth, not brainwashing." 

"Leni who?" Rachel said. 

"Infamous Nazi filmmaker. She’s in the restricted section of our Earth video library," Brittany said. "No, we won’t do that. And G-Artie wouldn’t do that, even if we asked him to." 

"So, who is going to contact him?" Santana asked. 

"I’ll do it," Brittany said, making a note to herself. 

"Good," Quinn said. "Anything else?" 

"Things to do, Places to be?" Santana asked. 

"Private dinner with my mother and sister at my sister’s beach house," Quinn said, standing. 

"How are things going with them?" Rachel asked, as they also stood up to leave. 

"Okay, I guess," Quinn said. "She hasn’t gotten used to my priorities being different, and she wants grandchildren." 

"Not impossible," Brittany said. "We still have Artie’s asteroid sitting in that time loop if you really wanted to take a break for children. But maybe you should let your sister take care of that." 

"You forget, there’s something missing," Quinn said. "Who would I have children with?" 

"We’re Dragon Clan," Brittany said. "Who isn’t a relevant question when it comes to children. It’s a 'when' and a 'whose genetics' if you really want them." 

"Children can wait," Quinn said, grimacing. "I’m not ready. Maybe after we deal with the Enemy and can relax." 

"I’m not sure I want to wait that long," Rachel said. "But I’m stuck on the 'who' also." 

"Solution!" Brittany said, jumping up and down excitedly. "You two can make babies together. They’d be so cute!" 

"No," Quinn said, blushing. "We’re not going there." Nodding to the others, she slipped out of the conference room. 

"No," Rachel echoed in a low voice, her eyes following Quinn as she disappeared down the corridor. 

"It’ll work out, Rach," Brittany said, hugging her. "You two will make wonderful moms." 

"You’re going to have to take charge if that’s your goal," Santana said bluntly, gesturing in the direction Quinn went. Grabbing Brittany’s hand, she led her off in the opposite direction. 

"Artie? My bodyguards and I have a meeting at the university. We should be back in a couple hours. If anyone asks," she murmured in a low voice before also leaving the room. 

"Of course, Lady Memory," Artie said, to the empty room.


	8. Murder Mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **[4/18/2014]** Minor tweaks.  
>  **Word Count:** 6,548 ( 8 of 9 )  
> 

"What, exactly, do you want me to do," Artie asked, looking across his desk at Brittany and Rachel. Their requested meeting, on an early Monday morning in May had been a surprise. Sure, the month before, after being stonewalled in his efforts to film in the Yucatan for the pilot episode of his new Alien Invaders show, Brittany had said to keep in touch. 

But he hadn’t expected much to come from it. He might believe that the four women were the four missing teens from his past, but he couldn’t use that without some seriously negative consequences to himself and his production company. So their appearance at his office, along with several armored figures, had been a surprise. 

"We’d like to hire your production company," Rachel said. 

"Why?" he asked. "You have all that alien tech. You probably have cameras so small that I can’t see them, constantly recording everything. What do you need me for." 

"Yes," Brittany said in agreement. "Everything we say, or do is recorded in real time. It’s part of who we are, members of the Dragon Clan Council of Nine. But a historical record is just that. A record for our historians. It isn’t something for other people to watch." 

"It’d be a bit boring," Rachel said, nodding. "I once asked to see what Quinn sees when she’s in the middle of a battle. Paint drying is more exciting. A presidential press conference set to elevator music is more exciting. A filmmaker such as yourself can add emotions and feelings to dry facts that a straight recording doesn’t have." 

"Okay," Artie said, leaning forward. "So, you haven’t made me obsolete. What do you want me to do." 

"How much do you really know about the Clan annexation of the Yucatan?" Brittany asked. 

"Ignoring what I know of your past history, I know you appeared suddenly on the day of the predicted Mayan apocalypse and claimed almost the entire peninsula, saying it belonged to your clan. And you’re turning it into a base for your activities in the area." 

"Close," Rachel said. "First, understand that the Clans are similar to a semi-independent police force. The Pan Galactic Confederation have given the Clans some authority to intercede in local conflicts. What happened was that an earlier incarnation of the Dragon Clan came to this world several thousand years ago. Their plan was to set up a base to use while they policed this part of the Galaxy. Their base was in the Yucatan. Clear so far?" 

"Yes," Artie said, wishing he could record this for his show. 

"Something, we aren’t sure yet what, happened to them. The Dragon Clan, as a viable policing organization, disappeared. All that appears to have survived were their Mayan descendants. Or so we thought." 

"So, the Mayans really are descended from aliens?" Artie asked excitedly. He could do a whole show just on that idea. 

"Yes," Rachel said. 

"So, the Clans are aliens, the Mayans are descendants of this Dragon Clan, and aliens," Artie said. "What proof do you have?" 

"Irrefutable proof," Brittany said. "There are certain genetic markers that our tech can identify, that current Earth tech can’t, that we can use to identify Clan descendants." 

"You said that you thought the only proof were the Mayan Clan descendants. What changed?" 

"We’ve discovered several caches of old Clan tech in the Yucatan area," Brittany said. "Basically trash. Broken equipment. Old buildings. Nothing unexpected, until now." 

"What’d you find?" Artie asked, leaning forward excitedly. 

"We aren’t sure yet," Rachel said. "What we’ve discovered is a large, shielded area off the coast, near Cancun." 

"Where do I come in?" Artie asked. 

"We thought you would like the opportunity to participate in the recovery of whatever is out there." 

"Can’t you just go and dig it up?" 

"If it is what we think it is, we won’t be able to hide our efforts to dig up what is there if we go after it. Anyone sitting on the beach is going to be able to watch us," Brittany said. "So, we want to make this official. You would film everything and at the end, have a documentary." 

"Who would be part of it?" 

"As the official Dragon Clan historian, I’m in charge," Rachel said. "Quinn will provide security, and Brittany’s Shadows will provide logistics." 

"And, if there’s any Clan secrets that aren’t appropriate for others to see, I’ll be the censor," Brittany said. 

"Censor?" Artie said. "I’m not sure I can work with that." 

"If you don’t want to be part of this, we can find someone else," Brittany said. "But that is non-negotiable." 

"No, no," Artie said quickly, his short future in TV flashing quickly before his eyes if he turned down this chance. "We can work things out." 

"Good," Rachel said. 

"How do you plan to pay for this?" Artie said. "Even a basic production can be expensive." 

"We’ve worked out a deal with your parent company," Brittany said. "You’ll have a budget to cover staff and expenses but as long as you don’t get too extravagant you’ll be fully funded for the entire time." 

"How’d you manage that?" Artie asked, giving them a skeptical look. 

"We invested in them," Brittany said, "though they don’t know that, so I wouldn’t tell them." 

"Oh, okay," Artie said, trying to absorb that information. "So, you basically will have editorial control, not censorship of content." 

"Exactly," Brittany said, nodding in delight. "We’ll provide housing in Cancun for you and your crew and any specialized equipment you may need." 

"When do you want us down there?" he asked, mentally going through his crew list. 

"Send us a list of the crew you absolutely need, and those who it would be nice to have so we can get them clearance for the job. We’ll take care of travel arrangements but everyone should be ready to go by the end of the week," Brittany said. "Any of our old Gleeks you think would be useful are also welcome. We have no problems with nepotism." 

"Tina Cho-Chang has done some camera work for me in the past, she has a reputation for working well under difficult conditions," Artie said. "The rest of the Gleeks? Possibly Matt Rutherford might be interested. The rest you’ve probably already talked with." 

"Kurt, Puck, Finn and Mercedes don’t seem to have skills that would be useful here," Brittany said. "And I’ve been unable to track down Michael Chang. He seems to have disappeared." 

"He went underground," Artie said. "He joined the family business, investigators for one of the Tongs. He pops up occasionally. He’s used us as a cover on more than one occasion." 

"That’s helpful," Brittany said. "If you have a way to get him a message, let him know I would like to talk with him, please." 

"Okay," Artie said, nodding, not feeling it was necessary to tell her he’d already been contacted by Chang through Tina after returning from Cancun. "No guarantees." 

"None expected," she said. 

"Keep this on your person at all times," Brittany said, handing him a small, slim black object. "It’ll block any electronic listening devices in your presence and provide access to our comm network. We’ll get you something a little more permanent in Cancun." 

"Sweet," he said, slipping it into his shirt pocket. 

"We need to get going," Rachel said. "I look forward to seeing you at the end of the week." 

"Ladies," Artie said. "A pleasure." 

Watching them leave his office, he wondered what it would be like working in Cancun for an extended period of time. And maybe they would let him film enough extra footage to use for his pilot. But that could wait. First step was getting together his crew. 

Picking up his phone, he dialed a rarely used number. "Tina? This is Artie. Several mutual friends have asked for my expertise on a documentary project. How would you and your elusive boyfriend like to join me in Cancun?" 

Artie covered his ears to bloc the shriek of delight. Now he just needed a camera crew that wouldn’t be intimidated by either the four women or their Amazon-like minions. 

* * *

"So, that went well," Rachel said, as they strolled towards the gate. 

"Yes," Brittany said. "There were several bugs in his office, and the public areas. We’re tracking them down now. Several are obvious MiB standards and I suspect at least one was Tong. Plus the usual TLA equipment. We’ll burn them as soon as they are identified." 

"So, we’ll hear from Mike Chang soon?" 

"Right about… now," Brittany said, pulling out a slim phone, as it started to ring. "And a hello to you too, Mr Chang," she said, after pressing a few buttons on the phone. "Yes, plenty of room for you and your girlfriend." 

"Girlfriend?" Rachel whispered. "He has a girlfriend? Who?" 

"Just make sure your bosses know you’re working with us and won’t have time for any side trips until Artie is done with his project. And we won’t allow any pilfering. If they expect access to our tech they’ll have to come to an agreement with us. Which we can discuss at a later time. We’ll see you in Cancun." Putting away her phone, she glanced over at Rachel. "Mike says Hi," she said. 

"Girlfriend?" Rachel asked again. 

"Tina," Brittany said. 

"You knew all that already, didn’t you," Rachel said. 

"I do my homework," Brittany said. "Anyone we encountered in high school or anywhere in Lima? I have extensive files on them. Pick a name." 

"Jacob Ben Israel?" Rachel said. "What happened to him?" 

"Your stalker?" Brittany asked. Rachel nodded. "Working the night shift at the Doublemeat Palace, and going to the Lima OSU branch. After you disappeared he claimed aliens abducted us, loudly. And all those pictures he took of you and the rest of us? Gone. Forever." 

"Do I want to know how you did that?" Rachel asked. 

"It would be best not to know," Brittany said. "We’re keeping an eye on him. He’s tried to contact you several times since we appeared on Ellen to blackmail you." 

"Ah," Rachel said. "Nasty little nerd grew up to be a nasty adult." 

"Yes," Brittany said. "And our ride home," she said, waving at an empty section of parking lot outside Artie’s office. "Come on, Santana promised me a massage when we got back." 

"I want someone to give me a massage," Rachel said, pouting as she was pulled through the camouflage field and into the shuttle. 

"You know my opinion on that," Brittany said, closing the hatch behind them. 

"Yes, and it is so not happening," Rachel said, throwing herself onto the nearest acceleration chair. "Neither of us have those kinds of feelings for the other." 

"You don’t really believe that, do you?" Brittany asked. "Watching the two of you dancing around your feelings is getting old." 

"Get used to it," Rachel said. "It would take a miracle." 

"What about Shelby and Frannie? They are very close," Brittany asked as the shuttle effortlessly rose in the air. 

"That makes things even weirder. That would make Quinn my aunt-in-law." 

"You’re Clan now. Complicated family relationships are normal. And, if you married Quinn, you’d be your mother’s sister-in-law. Sort of." 

"It’d be simpler to just not become entangled in that whole mess," Rachel said. "We don’t have Clan cat ladies, do we?" 

"We don’t have cats," Brittany said. "You know that." 

"What do we have?" Rachel asked. Pulling her tablet out of a pocket she started searching for the Clan equivalent to the 'cat lady'." 

"That’s your area, not mine," Brittany said. 

"Not seeing anything," Rachel said, grumbling. 

"Not every Earth saying or concept has a Clan equivalent," Brittany said. "Especially since the Dragon Clan started out as a matriarchy." 

"Of course," Rachel said, agreeing with her. "I’m sure I’ll find an equivalent expression to living alone at the end of a long lonely life." 

"And then we’ll squash that expression into the ground, because I won’t allow you to be alone like that. If I have to lock you and Quinn up together in a closet, in a time warp, until the UST takes over." 

"UST?" Rachel asked. 

"Unrelieved Sexual Tension," Brittany said. "Some times it’s so thick between the two of you that you could cut it with a knife." 

"No!" Rachel blurted out, blushing a deep red. 

"Oh yeah," Brittany said. "Just be glad I’ve got San wrapped around my finger or she would have locked the two of you up together in one of the low G practice rooms by now." 

"Well, if she decides to do it, stop her!" Rachel said. "Quinn doesn’t react well to interference in her personal life." 

"She’s aware of that. But sometimes she can’t help herself," Brittany said. "So do something about this before she does." 

* * *

"Okay, people, our transportation is supposed to be here now," Artie told his crew. Keeping in mind that their employers for this job, the Dragon Clan, would provide any needed junior personnel, in exchange for teaching them, in addition to Tina, he’d limited his crew to two camera operators, an editor, a sound editor, and assistant, all women, which had gotten him a number of odd looks when they’d met the day before in the production company conference room to deal with the paperwork. 

"I don’t see anything," Tina murmured, holding Mike’s hand. Artie had hired him to provide protection for the crew, something he’d done before when traveling with Artie as a cover, though he didn’t expect the cover to be needed in this situation. 

There was a loud humming sound coming from the back corner of the parking lot. Seemingly out of thin air, two hard suit clad figures appeared, followed by Quinn Fabray in a dark blue, militaristic looking uniform. 

"Artie, ladies," Quinn said, approaching them. "Let’s get your equipment and personal possessions aboard. We have a very limited window before someone notices us." 

"Hey Q," Artie said. "This is unexpected." 

"Brittany had planned to be the one to pick you up," Quinn told him, in a low voice, "but something came up. The shuttle entrance is over there." She pointed towards a large clear area. "Between Jody and May." 

"That’s too bad," he said. "Okay, load everything up," he said to his crew. "That way." 

"Hey Quinn," Tina said, stopping next to her. "Long time, no see." 

"No more stutter?" Quinn asked. 

"It served its purpose," Tina said. "No more HBIC?" 

"Real power requires a different type of command," Quinn said. "They call me the Hand of the Dragon. When necessary, I lead over a thousand hard suited troopers like those two into battle," she pointed at Jody and May. "But they would not follow that teen that thought she was the hottest thing in a short skirt." 

"But they follow you," Tina said. 

"Yes," Quinn said. "As the Fleet follows Santana, they follow me." 

"Santana?" 

"Artie didn’t explain, did he?" Quinn said. 

"He just said he needed a cinematographer for a project in Cancun," Tina said. "Something about the aliens. He didn’t say anything about who." 

"But you already knew about Brittany and Rachel," Quinn said. 

"Possibly," Tina said. "Mike may have mentioned a conversation with Brittany." 

"We’re all loaded," Artie said. 

"Good, still inside our travel window," Quinn said. "Everyone aboard." 

Artie and his crew cautiously entered the shuttle. Loading their equipment into the hold was decidedly different than going for a ride. 

"Everyone take a seat," Quinn said. "I recommend hanging on." 

"Put your seat belts on, put your trays in an upright position," a cheerful voice said from the front. "We’ve got a short launch window." 

"Just go!" Quinn said. "We don’t need a comedian." 

"Yes, Lady Hand," the pilot said, grinning at their passengers. "Launching now." 

With an almost imperceptible jolt, the shuttle moved into the sky. 

"Ladies, Artie, Mike, next stop is our base at Chichen Itza," Quinn said. "From there we’ll provide transport to your hotel. You’ll have to excuse the rather dramatic departure. We didn’t have time for you to take the standard mode of transportation you’re familiar with." 

* * *

"Artie? Introductions would be welcome," Quinn said, after they’d all settled in. 

"Of course," he said. "You already know Mike Chang, our security consultant. Tina is our cinematographer. If it looks good, it will be due to her efforts." 

"And if it looks bad, it will of course also be my fault," Tina said. 

"Of course," Artie said, winking at her. "My two camera operators, Lynne and Red Angmar. Katie Jones, my favorite editor. June Wiltshire, sound editor, and my assistant Penelope Fisk." 

"Penny, ma’am," she corrected. 

"I see you’ve taken note of our Clan makeup by bringing a crew that will fit in," Quinn said. 

"It was a suggestion made in several quarters," Artie said. "I would prefer we be as unobtrusive as possible while your people work." 

"We’re landed, Lady Hand," the pilot said. 

"Welcome to the lands of the Dragon Clan," Quinn said to them. "Grab your equipment on your way out. We’ll have a short meeting and then take you to your hotel." Stepping out of the shuttle, Quinn waited for them to join her before leading them to a conference room in the base spaceport. 

* * *

"As Artie may have informed you," Quinn looked at him shaking his head, "or not. We’ve hired Artie Abrams Productions to document a project for us. As such, you are considered employees of the Clan while you are here. Our rules are few, but we believe them to be just. The information packets you received cover most things. Make sure you read the entire contents. 

You aren’t a bunch of men, at least most of you, so you should fit right in. All Clan are women at this point in time, so it should be easy to identify us. 

Different color uniforms are worn by different Clanswomen. My uniform color is that of the Clan Hand, or what you might call mobile infantry. Anyone wearing the hard suits you see there," she pointed at Jody and May, "work for me. My personal team, Gold Team, can be identified by this symbol." She pointed at a small gold, faintly Chinese, dragon. "They will be participating in this project. Some may also be providing security. Fleet personnel will also be participating. Their uniforms are similar to mine but in red." 

"Will we have time to explore?" Red asked. 

"That’s up to Artie," Quinn said. "We won’t interfere with how he manages his crew, all of you." 

"Same as always," Artie said. "We’ll discuss work plans later, since I’m sure Lady Q has other places to be." 

* * *

"That was an interesting trip," Tina said, collapsing onto their bed. "Can you believe that the 'Unholy Trinity’ are now in charge of an alien invasion force?" 

"You know I can’t reveal what I’ve been told, but word on the street is that they are building a peacekeeping force," Mike said, lying down next to her. "Though what they plan to protect the Earth from hasn’t been revealed." 

"And Artie is doing a documentary of some special project of theirs," Tina said. "Though he hasn’t really explained in any detail yet. Hopefully tomorrow." 

* * *

Artie looked at his crew, eating breakfast in the private room they had been given for their use in their hotel. They’d all seemed to react well to the trip to Cancun. How they would react to the project remained to be seen. 

"Okay, finish up," he said. "We’re expecting a guest, and then we’ll get started." 

"I’m not interrupting anything, am I," a soft, musical voice said, causing everyone to turn towards the door. A short woman, dressed in a colorful cape, stood just inside the door, flanked by two tall figures in the now recognizable hard suits of the Dragon Clan. 

"Rachel, and friends, come in!" Artie said, rolling back from the table to greet her. He’d realised after their last encounter that he’d really missed her, more than he’d consciously thought. Her absence from McKinley had left a hole in the small high school world he and others had briefly inhabited. "Would you like some coffee?" 

"No, I find that excess caffeine can lead to over excitability, leading to things that should not be said. But some of that orange juice would be welcome." 

"Of course," he said, nodding at his assistant to get her some juice. "What can we do for you?" 

"Quinn was exceedingly brief yesterday, when she welcomed you all to our little domain," Rachel said. "Before you get started, I’d like to increase your knowledge of the task you are all about to undertake." Slipping out her tablet, she laid it on the table in front of her. "Side issue," she said. "Mike and Tina, if I could speak with both of you afterward, it would be appreciated." 

"Certainly, Rachel," Tina said, speaking for both of them after Mike squeezed her leg under the table. 

"Artie has some idea why we hired his company, and all of you, for this project. We being the Council of Nine of the Dragon Clan of the Pan-Galactic Confederation. For those of you who don’t know, the Council of Nine is our ruling body. There are currently four members - myself; Lady Quinn, whom you met last night; Lady Air the head of our space Fleet, whom you may here some of us refer to as Santana, though only family and friends are free to do so; Lady Shadow, whose position encompasses so much that we would be here all day to explain it. As others have said, Lady Shadow sees all, and knows all. She most likely knows more about each of you than your own family. If you have skeletons, she knows where they are buried or what closets they are in. It is possible you may encounter her during this project. Those of you wielding cameras will be asked to not film her. 

As for myself, I go by many names and titles but I am the Memory of the Clan. The closest description of my position to something you would be familiar with is that of your medieval Irish bard. At assorted times I may be an ambassador, entertainer, historian, or speaker. For this project, I am project manager. The two young ladies you see here are for my protection. As much as I don’t need them, others insist," she said, shrugging. 

"As for the nature of this project, we have discovered what we believe to be historical artifacts of our Clan. You will be documenting the recovery of these artifacts. When we are done, we expect two things. All footage will be entered into our historical record. You will also take the footage and do what you do best, create a documentary suitable for viewing by a global audience that gives viewers some view, some indication of who we, the Dragon Clan, are and where we come from. Preferably in a positive or neutral fashion, of course. 

Now, we don’t know exactly what we will find, but off the beaches of Cancun is an area that our sensors indicate contains artifacts from the Clan’s first residence on this planet. Troopers from Lady Quinn’s teams and Fleet personnel will be assisting us but you must be aware that their primary purpose is the safety of all involved. They are not prone to request arbitrary actions. Any questions?" 

"The documents we signed all mentioned some 'educational' component, but there has been no explanation given," Penny asked. 

"It’s fairly simple," Rachel said. "Several of you will be provided with assistants who will learn all they can about your craft during filming. This is not because we wish to start our own production company. It would be easier to buy one. Or to replace you. Although we have a number of people proficient with sound and audio recording equipment, they have no experience turning a dry record of an event into something people would actually want to see. And, unfortunately, we need these skills to 'humanize' events in places where you cannot travel to." 

"Okay," Penny said. "So, part of this project is to teach people to see the art in what we do?" 

"Correct," Rachel said. "Although I believe that being an artist is not something that can be taught, I do believe that talented people can produce art if exposed to it. Any other questions?" 

"If we’re considered employees, do we get our own special uniforms?" Penny asked. 

"Do you really want them?" Rachel said. "My people do not usually wear uniforms other than a basic ship suit." 

"Would it be easier for us to blend in?" Artie asked. 

"Well, given that we have no men in Clan colors, you and Mike won’t blend in anyway. But we can arrange something." 

"Great. Well, we need to go through our equipment, and then Tina, Red, Lynne, Penny, and myself would like to visit the site." 

"We’ve provided you with several vehicles. The keys are at the front desk. The site is currently inaccessible right now, under fifty feet of sea water. We should be ready to allow entrance some time tomorrow." 

"Good enough," Artie said. "We can use the time to familiarize ourselves with the area." 

* * *

Quinn stared down at the shield below her, wondering how anyone could have missed it in the past ten centuries. At low tide, the surface of the water was barely ten feet above it. Based on her experience with the shield on the Men In Black’s island, her hard suit should be able to penetrate it, though the interaction with the surrounding salt water was a serious concern. "Ready ladies?" she asked her team. "If at all possible, we want this intact." 

Stepping to the edge of the hovering platform, Quinn and her team dropped towards the shield. Passing through it with only a slight shudder, she found herself several hundred feet above an expanse of sand, her suits’ decelerators automatically kicking in. Spread out for several thousand feet were several ancient looking Clan space ships. A cruiser, as they’d expected, but also several shuttles, of the heavily armoured type used to transport important Clan leaders. 

Halfway down, she could see several large collections of prone figures spread out on the sand. According to her sensors, which detected Clan ID bio chips, they were Clan. Her sensors were picking up additional ID’s from the cruiser and one of the shuttles. "Artie? Can you identify these ID’s?" She signaled her team to maintain their position, hovering above the sand. 

"Yes, Lady Quinn," Artie said. A map appeared within her view screen. As she watched, numbers that resembled old style ID numbers began to populate the screen, following by names and Clan ranking and bio readings. "Eight of the last known Council of Nine appear to be present," Artie said. 

"Who’s missing?" Quinn asked. 

"The Mother," Artie said. 

"Mother?" 

"The Head of the Council," Artie said. "Her role was to ensure that the Clan survived. That nothing the other Nine did endangered the survival of the Clan." 

"So, very important person," Quinn said. "And she’s not here." 

"She’s not one of the expired Clan here," Artie said. "It is possible she is in a location shielded from your suit sensors." 

"Can we use your sensors or the flagship to find her?" 

"My sensors cannot reach down into this shielded area," Artie said. "I am already using the sensor arrays on the flagship to reach you and provide assistance. Your suit sensors are much more accurate in this situation." 

"Okay, any suggestions?" 

"Continue with the initial phase, and turn over the site to the Memory and her researchers. They are better equipped for the next phase." 

"Okay," Quinn said. "And what did you want to do with the suit sensors?" 

"They can be combined to get a much more detailed view of the site." 

"Danger level?" 

"Seven," Artie said. "While the scan is going on you will not be able to detect any incoming attacks." 

"That could be a problem," Quinn said. "So, scan and be defenseless or find a way to go around this." 

"I believe that there are more than sufficient suit sensors available," Artie said. "I will leave yours out of the loop this time." 

"Let everyone know and then go for it," Quinn said. "My team, my risk." 

After a long break in time, Artie returned control to the individual suits. "Scanning complete," 

"And?" Quinn said from the ground, her team having completed the drop while Artie digested the scan. 

"There appear to be several active life signs. One in the cruiser, and one in this shuttle," Artie said, two red circles appearing, hovering above two map coordinates. 

"How is that possible?" Quinn said. 

"This style of shuttle could be converted into a stasis system," Artie said. "It was rarely done, due to the risk to the occupants. The cruiser contains several stasis units in its infirmary." 

"Were you able to detect an ID from either life sign?" Quinn asked. 

"No," Artie said. 

"Okay," Quinn said. Switching over to her team comm channel, she addressed them. "Ladies we need to determine if automated defenses have been activated before we allow the Memory, her crew, and the doc crew down here. Whist, Pip, Squeak? You have the shuttles. Pin? You and Bobbi are with me. We’ll check the cruiser." 

"Boss?" 

"Yes, Bobbi," Quinn said. 

"We aren’t the first to find this," she said. "Look over there." Bobbi pointed at several mummies wearing the pseudo uniform of the Men In Black near the cruiser. 

"Doesn’t look like this agreed with them," Quinn said. "Okay ladies, it looks like there’s a defense system still running. Please be careful clearing the area."

A flurry of 'Yes Boss’s were sent her way. 

"Lady Quinn, I have been able to access the cruiser log. It appears to be a part of the original Clan fleet but there is no indication of who might be in stasis." 

"What about the shuttles? They’re standard Clan fleet design," Quinn said. "They must belong to a ship." 

"One of them does belong to the cruiser," Artie said. "The other one containing the life sign is running in stasis mode. Its’ ID is not in my records but is recognizably Clan." 

"Okay, more mystery, and the only log is for the cruiser," Quinn muttered, heading for the cruiser. "Are we ready to enter?" she asked, standing in front of the main air lock. 

"In a moment," Artie said. "Disabling internal defenses now." 

Quinn reached over and entered the standard emergency access code into the air lock control. Warning Bobbi and Pin to double their shields, something they could do for several minutes before it affected their suit’s power systems, she keyed in the open sequence. There was a slight hiss as the door slid open, revealing a dark air lock. 

Manually triggering her night vision, Quinn entered the air lock, closely followed by Bobbi. Pin waited for a slow hundred count before following them. 

"Need some lights," Bobbi murmured across their combat channel. "Barely enough ambient to enable our night vision," she added. 

"Command center or infirmary?" Pin asked, when they came to a crossing path. 

"Infirmary," Quinn said. "I want to check the ship’s log but I can read that later. Let’s find out who managed to get stuck in stasis while everything died around them." 

"Got it Boss," Bobbi said. "That way, follow the red strip on the wall, it’ll lead us right to it." 

Although the only life sign was coming from something in stasis, they cautiously entered the infirmary. Early stasis pods had been known to be configured with active self defense systems. 

In a classic maneuver, Bobbi went through the door to the right, Pin to the left. This left Quinn to take the center. 

As they entered, there were several bright flashes of light, and Quinn’s armor registered several kinetic hits, though no damage registered on her suits systems. "Minor hit, no damage," Quinn reported. "Anyone else get too close to whatever has the kinetic weapon?" she asked. 

"No, you’re just lucky that way, Boss," Pin said. "I’ve found the light control." 

"And?" Quinn said. "What are you waiting for?" 

"Just checking to make sure we have enough power for them and the stasis chamber," Pin said. "Lights on, now." 

"That doesn’t look like an old Clan stasis chamber," Quinn said, stepping closer. 

"Boss! Wait until we disable its defence systems," Bobbi said, when the kinetic weapon revealed itself again by shooting a dozen rounds in Quinn’s direction, all of them missing now that her hard suit recognized them for what they were. 

"Master Tech Jantel says it’s a modified Red Pirate stasis box," Pin said. "She’s never seen one anywhere except in a museum history vid." 

"Pirates?" Quinn muttered. "Can we find out who’s in there without cracking it open?" 

"Checking now," Pin said. "It says 'Crimson del Ho' or at least it would if it was written in a language that wasn’t all consonants." 

"Artie? Can you find out who Crimson del Ho is? Do we release them? Leave them here until we know what to do with them? Hand them off to Brittany?" 

"Unknown," Artie said. "Crimson del Ho is not in my data banks for that time period. Recommendation is to not open it." 

"Got it," Pin said. "Old Tiger Clan battle story. They encountered a fleet of pirates with that name. Their last known attack was several centuries after the Clan base facilities here were built." 

"Which makes no sense," Quinn muttered. "Unless they were behind the disappearance of the original Council of Nine." 

"If you say so, Boss," Bobbi said. 

"I believe a second opinion is in order," Quinn said. "Don’t go anywhere. And kill that pod’s defense system." Shaking her head, Quinn headed towards the airlock. "Rachel?" she sent down the Council of Nine comm channel. 

"Yes?" 

"I believe we’ve found something interesting that you should see. Bring Brittany with you if you see her, she’s not answering her comm." 

"She’s out on an op," Rachel said, after a brief pause. "Santana says she can come instead." 

"Good," Quinn said, closing the channel. 

* * *

"So, where’s your tame documentary crew?" Santana asked, poking her head into Rachel’s private studio in Chichen Itza. "Shouldn’t you be with them?" 

"They hired a native guide and are exploring the area before we open the site," Rachel said, "since we can’t let them near it until Quinn has declared it safe." 

"And, let me guess, she’s taking her time, since she doesn’t consider it a priority," Santana said. "And she want you to be safe. 

"That would be an accurate assessment of the situation," Rachel said, sighing. "Have you been talking to Brittany about this?" 

"I don’t need to," Santana said. "Q and I go way back. Reading her mind is something I don’t need help with. Just a sec." 

Rachel grimaced. She didn’t see any need to involved the others in one of Quinn’s paranoia drenched scenarios. 

"Rachel, you need to come see this," Quinn’s voice over their private channel interrupted her thoughts. "If you see Brittany, ask her to join us. She’s not answering her comm." 

"Santana? Have you seen Brittany?" Rachel asked as soon as her comm cleared. "Quinn wants her to go down to the site with me." 

"She’s busy with an op," Santana said. "She’s under radio silence. But I can be a reasonable facsimile and tell her later." 

"Okay," Rachel said, relaying the message to Quinn. "I have no idea what Quinn has found but we should go now." 

"Heading out now," Santana said, offering Rachel a hand up. "Did she say where at the site?" 

"No," Rachel muttered. 

* * *

"This is an amazing place," Rachel said, sliding off of the scooter Santana had flown them down on. "How big is it?" 

"Three times the size of Cowboy stadium in Dallas," Quinn said. 

"I’m not sure how big that is, but I’ll assume it’s something really large on the inside," Rachel said. "So, what are we here to see, before we let the film crew in?" 

"We found a large number of really old mummies," Bobbi told her. "Most have been identified from old Clan records. The rest appear to be Men In Black, not so old." 

"Okay, though ewe," Rachel said. "I’m assuming you need to know the proper procedures to use with retrieving them?" 

"Yes," Quinn said, "though there is no rush, since they aren’t going anywhere. You’ll get to do the whole fancy funeral thing you’ve been looking into. Eight of them are the missing Lost Clan Council of Nine." 

"Probably need to deal with them first," Rachel said. "But you said eight. Who’s missing?" 

"Mother," Quinn said. 

"Mother? That’s not good," Rachel said. "Mother is the heart of the Clan. Have you searched all of these vehicles for her?" 

"Yes," Quinn told her. "She’s not here. We have identified several life signs." 

"People are still alive down here?" Rachel said. 

"That’s a surprise," Santana said. "Who are they?" 

"There is what appears to be a pirate in a stasis pod in the infirmary. Artie’s records don’t include any info on that pirate tribe, so we can’t confirm what the stasis pod inventory says. But the pod had an active defense system, so it is likely someone important." 

"And the other 'several'?" Santana asked, while Rachel listened wide-eyed. 

"One of the shuttles is running in stasis mode," Quinn said. "We’ve never run into one like that, so we’ll need help opening it." 

"When can we let Artie and his crew down here?" Rachel asked. 

"I can’t say," Quinn told her. "We have a potentially dangerous person on the cruiser and who knows what on that shuttle. We’ll have to move the shuttle and stasis pod to a safe location first." 

"You can do that?" Rachel asked. "Can we have them film that process?" 

"Sure. I guess. There weren’t any signs of biological hazards here and we’ve set up an air cleaner. We’ll take the pod and shuttle off-planet just in case and use the time loops to make sure nothing dangerous gets out." 

"Okay, I’ve contacted my salvage crew," Santana said, rejoining the conversation. "We should be able to move on that in a couple hours. That’ll give the TV geeks time to set up. And we really need a better way in and out of this," she said, waving at the shield overhead. "Getting down here would have been extremely awkward if Shorty and I weren’t such close friends. Though I think we’re a bit closer than before." 

"We should have Brittany take a look at that pod before we move it," Quinn said. "How long before she can come down here?" 

"Tomorrow morning," Santana said. "She’s off doing something with Coach. We can move that shuttle out of here first after the cameras are set up. Let them take lots of video." 

"Okay," Quinn said. "You alright Rachel?" 

"There was a reason why we don’t have a Mother on this job," Rachel said, chewing her lip worriedly. "Hopefully that isn’t her in stasis." 


	9. Mother, Dear Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 5,098

"So, what do we have?" Artie asked, as he, Mike, Penny, Tina, and his camera crew traveled out to the site, accompanied by Rachel and her bodyguards. June and Katie were safely back at their hotel base learning to use their new equipment. 

Rachel handed him a large photo, taken from Quinn’s suit cam the day before as she briefly hovered over the ocean floor inside the cache. "An old cruiser, several shuttles, and mummies. Lots of mummies." 

"Will we get to go inside the shuttles and cruiser?" he asked. "And what about the mummies?" 

"The majority of the mummies are Clan," Rachel said. "They’ll be returned to the One after they’ve been examined." 

"The One?" Artie asked. 

"The Goddess. The Builder. The One who watches. We don’t have religion as such, but we do believe in a higher power." 

"Oh," Artie murmured, wondering how he could fit that into this documentary. "Can we film that?" 

"No up close photographs of the mummies, though you’ll be allowed to film the internment ceremony," Rachel said. "Though I suspect you won’t find it that exciting. A few prayers, no weeping families, and a trip into the sun they died under." 

"How a culture deals with death is always important," Artie says, attempting to appear sympathetic. 

"I wasn’t saying that it wasn’t," Rachel said. "I just don’t think it’ll make for exciting television." 

"Why the sun?" Artie asked. 

"It’s an old tradition," Rachel said. 

"You said most of the mummies were clan," Mike said. "What were the others and how did they get here?" 

"It appears this location was discovered by someone else in the past," Rachel reluctantly admitted." 

"Who?" Artie asked, internally jumping for glee at Mike's catch. "How'd they find it?" 

"The Lady Shadow is currently investigating," Rachel said. "Right now, all we know is that they are from a much later date." 

Though Artie could tell there was something more to it he didn’t push. "And the cruiser and shuttles?" 

"That shuttle has already been moved. Late last night," she said, pointing at one of them in the photo. "According to our Fleet engineers, it appears to be running a highly unstable maintenance routine. We have a research center out in the asteroid belt. They’ll study it out there and attempt to shut it down where it won’t harm anyone." 

"That dangerous?" Artie said. "Did you get any video of its removal that we can use?" 

"Yes," Rachel said, giving him a faint smile. "From multiple angles. You can have it tonight." 

"Good. Good," Artie said, as their transport came to a slow halt, hovering next to a series of connected platforms. The hatch opened and a ramp connected their craft to the nearest platform. Picking up their bags, Artie and his crew followed Rachel out onto the platform. 

"How are we getting down there?" he asked, 

"Scooter," Rachel said, pointing across to the furthest platform. Several bikini clad women stood near a row of devices. "Santana’s crew will have something a little more permanent set up tomorrow." 

"I think we’re over dressed," Tina said, looking down at her sandals and denim shorts. 

"No, the scooters will protect you," Rachel said. "And the site is dry." 

"You look good to me," Mike said. 

"A little biased," Tina said, poking him. "What about our equipment?" 

"We’ve also set up an office for you." Rachel pointed to a small hut on another platform. "It has a high speed link to the hotel. Anything you do on the equipment here is backed up to there." 

"Great," Penny said. "What about the local storms that are predicted for this week? Should we worry about them?" 

"Our weather people are extremely accurate," Rachel said. "The platform has its own shields that’ll protect us when it rains. 

"Okay," Artie said, rotating to get a good look at all of his crew, "Let’s get things set up before going down to the site." 

* * *

"Ladies, Artie, Chang," a voice said from the hut entrance. 

"This is unexpected," Artie said, turning to face the voice. Standing in the entrance was a uniform clad Santana Lopez. 

"Couldn’t let everyone else have all the fun," Santana said. 

"What brings you here?" Rachel asked. "Is the elevator ready?" 

"Hold your horses," Santana said. "Tomorrow." 

"Okay," Rachel said. "Not that we aren’t happy to see you, but aren’t you busy with the other shuttle?" 

"You know micro-managing isn’t my thing," Santana said. "They’ll let me know if they need me. Thought I’d bring by a little gadget one of my engineers cooked up for Artie." 

"For me?" Artie looked surprised. 

"Your wheels aren’t going to work too well down there," Santana said. "And I don’t think you want to be carried everywhere." 

"No," Artie said. "Just put me where I can see everything." 

"Or, we can fix up your wheels to handle the sand," Santana said, stepping back to let someone else enter the hut. "This is Emmy. She does custom work for special Fleet projects." 

"Hi!" Emmy said, flashing Artie a big smile, before nodding to the others. 

"What’ve you come up with?" Rachel asked. 

"All terrain adapters, Lady Memory," Emmy said. "It’s a low powered version of the boosters on our anti-gravity carts." 

"Which means?" Artie asked. 

"A slight modification of your chair," Emmy said. "You won’t be able to fly, but you’ll be able to move on soft ground without getting stuck." 

"When can you make the changes?" Artie asked, clearly excited at the idea. 

"We didn’t want to break your current one so we made a dupe," Emmy said, pulling out a small device and quickly tapping on it. 

"Emmy!" Santana said, quickly stepping back to let a wheelchair into the hut. 

"Sorry Boss!" she said, giggling. "It’s in Clan colors right now, but you can change it with this." She handed the device to Artie. "It’s a simple controller, keyed to your bio-chip. Once it’s activated, no one else can use it." 

"Bio-chip?" Artie asked. "Something you forgot to tell me, ladies?" 

"Not my idea," Rachel said defensively. 

"It’s a perk of the job," Santana said, shrugging. "We’re all chipped." 

"There are different kinds," Emmy added. "Depending on your job. Yours is like a key. You can be 'keyed' to use certain Clan equipment, like this chair or access certain areas, like this platform. And it allows our systems to monitor your health." 

"Not sure I like the idea that someone is watching me," Tina said. "Or listening." 

"Oh, your chips aren’t capable of that," Emmy said, reaching into a pocket in her ship suit. "But they do allow you to access our comm channels with these." She quickly handed one to each of them. 

"These look familiar," Artie said. "Someone must be a Trekkie." 

"Trekker," Emmy said, firmly. 

"Don’t get her started," Santana said, shaking her head. "I already have a dozen requests for leave from my crew to attend a Star Trek convention." 

"I wouldn’t think it would be popular," Tina said. "You’re living the real thing. 

"Our tech is better," Emmy said. 

"Our tech is more advanced," Santana said, correcting her. "But there are some things we can’t do yet." 

"Like what?" Artie asked. 

"Matter Transporter," Rachel said. "I don’t understand the science, but everyone tells me that’s impossible." She nodded at Emmy to continue. 

"Technically we could do it," Emmy said, shaking her head. "The science is understood. But what comes out the other end is very unstable, or very dead. No one has figured out the missing element yet." 

"That would be a serious drawback," Artie said, grimacing. "What else?" 

"Universal Translator," Emmy said. "That’s like magic. Our tech can handle known languages we’ve mapped, but not languages we’ve never encountered before. We’re using it now to translate your words into Clan speech." 

"You aren’t speaking English?" Red, who’d been quiet until now, blurted out. 

"No," Emmy said. 

"That’s impressive," Red said. The others nodded in agreement. 

"We find it useful," Santana said. 

"How do these work?" Artie asked, holding up the communicator he’d been handed earlier. 

"It has to be touching you," Emmy said. "Then touch it to activate, and select an outgoing channel. You have three. A team channel, our general channel, and an outside channel." 

"Explain in more detail, please," Rachel said, noticing a number of confused expressions. 

"Sorry, Lady Memory," Emmy said. "Channels are like your audio or video channels. Your comm badges have been programmed to access three. Channel one is your team. Only someone designated as part of your team can access it. Tap to activate, say 'Team' and then a name or group of names."  

"Like a conference call?" Penny asked, nodding. 

"Correct," Rachel said. 

"The other channels?" Penny asked. 

"The general channel works the same, except you can reach anyone in the Clan over it, if they are available," Emmy said. "You can also block callers if you don’t want to be interrupted." 

"And the last channel?" 

"The outside channel," Emmy said. "It connects you to the planetary comm system, like your phone." 

"We can still use our phones, right?" Tina asked. 

"Yes, but the comm badges have better battery life," Emmy said. 

"And no roaming charges," Rachel added. "Or phone bills. We cover all comm channel costs." 

"So use the outside channel to call home or the office," Artie said loudly, to general laughter. 

"How private are these channels?" Mike asked. 

"Mostly private," Rachel said. "Only the Shadows can access private channels." 

"Shadows?" 

"The Lady Shadow and her people," Emmy said. 

"Lady Shadow, Brittany, is in charge of Fleet Intelligence," Rachel said. "She knows everyone’s secrets. She has access to all channels. She’s probably listening to us now." 

"That’s… a surprise," Artie said. 

"She’s uniquely suited to the task," Rachel said. "I trust her completely." 

"Looks like our ride’s almost ready," Santana said, stopping the discussion. "Emmy, help Artie into his new chair and show him the controls." 

"Yes, Boss," she said. 

* * *

"What are we going to do with her?" Quinn asked, looking at the unconscious woman they’d found in the cruiser infirmary stasis pod. "She betrayed the Clan to the Red Pirates." 

"The only proof we have is in that stasis pod, from a very biased source," Brittany said. "Her mother was the Clan Mother. She might have had a good reason for her actions." 

"Artie? Please explain this again," Rachel said, from her perch on the counter. "What do we have for evidence?" 

"Her personal log was keyed to open only to herself or a future member of the Council," she said. "Her claim is that the other members of the Council conspired to kill her mother and her mother killed the other eight of the Nine in self defense. She attempted to negotiate with the pirates to keep them from finding out the Clan was leaderless, and to protect the Clan." 

"The Mother is a dangerous person to cross," Rachel said, frowning. "They tend to become unstable." 

"Then why the hell does that role exist?" Santana said. "This is like some self inflicted bad mojo." 

"The Mother is the ultimate embodiment of Clan survival," Rachel said. "Only someone who can become focused on the survival of the Clan, no matter what the cost, can meet the requirements for Mother. But, if the wrong person is picked, things like this can happen." 

"The Clan Mother is an anachronism, dating back to the original planet bound Clans," Artie said. "All current Clans operate without an active Mother." 

"So, we aren’t going to have one of our own?" Santana asked. 

"You have a potential one now," Artie said. "The original plan does not include a Mother." 

"Her?" Santana said. "Little Miss Pirate-Hugger? What makes her a potential Mother? I’d space her if she did that to my People." 

"She fits the profile of a Mother. She is a much better fit than her own mother was," Artie told them. "Her actions were a result of grief, not madness." 

"So what do we do with her?" Quinn asked again. "What have the other Clans done to make their 'Mothers' inactive?" 

"They are placed in stasis when they begin to exhibit unstable behavior," Artie said. 

"And this wasn’t standard practice back then, was it?" Rachel asked. 

"Correct." 

"No wonder her mother thought they were out to get her. They were," Rachel said. "I think we need to hear her story, from her." 

"Too dangerous," Brittany said. "If she is recognized as the Mother, she has some kind of power over us." 

"I’m not sure that is true," Rachel said. "The power of the Mother was her ability to scheme, and her intelligence. None of the Nine have any special, magical powers. They are just very suited for their role." 

"I’m not sure I like that idea anyway," Quinn said. "Magic doesn’t make me good at my job. It’s training and experience." 

"And a talent for commanding small groups of people," Rachel said. "Just like Santana has that certain something special that makes her a superb Fleet commander. It’s a talent, not magic." 

"Some things a Mother can do cannot be explained by Clan science or genetics," Brittany said. "If we turn her loose, we could be dooming our entire enterprise." 

"What about Sophia?" Rachel said. "We had to petition the Confederation to make her the Weaver, and they still haven’t decided. Isn’t that the same issue with a designated Mother? Won’t the Confederation have to agree to her elevation?" 

"Yes," Artie said. "But she is the only candidate available. It is a forgone conclusion that she would be elevated if you request it." 

"I still think we should talk with her," Rachel said. 

"I don’t agree," Brittany said. 

"How about a compromise?" Quinn said. "Let’s ask her to tell us her story, for the record. You can monitor the interview for any suspicious activity." 

"Suspicious activity?" Brittany asked. 

"If she has some sort of power, and we all agree it isn’t magic, it must be some kind of psychic ability. Artie? Has the Confederation ever actually examined a Mother to see how they are able to influence a Clan?" 

"No," Artie said. "All we have is speculation based on events such as this. The Council of Clans does not allow any of the Nine to be examined by Confederation specialists." 

"Really? Then how did you recruit us? Didn’t you have to do a thorough workup on each of us? What did this Council think of that?" 

"They were informed, but not consulted," Artie said. "As part of the agreement between the Council of Clans and the Confederation, if a Clan becomes inactive or unable to function, due to some unforeseen action, the Confederation has the power to take the remnants of that Clan and appoint a new Council of Nine from the remnants of that Clan to rebuild it." 

"So, at some point we, the Council of Nine of the Dragon Clan, will have to seek approval of the overall Clan Council?" Rachel asked. "And if they don’t approve of us?" 

"If you fail to be successful in rebuilding your Clan, they have the power to completely disband it and absorb your members into the remaining Clans. But this has never been done in the entire history of the Clan - Confederation agreement." 

"Never is a long time," Brittany said. "So, we will need a plan to deal with the other Clans if they don’t like how we run things. But first we need to deal with this Mother issue. If Artie can provide us with psychic shields against potential tampering, then I will agree to this action." 

"Our clan includes human genes," Quinn said. "Can a full Clan psychic, if that’s what Mother means, affect us?" 

"This psychic ability, as you call it, is very rare in the Confederation. Most species with psychic abilities such as this can only affect their own. What effect your human genes will have is unknown. But we will provide shielding, as requested," Artie said. "If, as you theorize, the Mother is a psychic trait, it is an unconscious one." 

"So, she might not know she’s trying to influence someone?" Quinn said. 

"I think we need to bring Coach in on this," Santana said. "That woman is uninfluencible." 

* * *

"So, you want me to interrogate her? Little Popsicle Girl?" Sue asked, looking at the monitor. "What did she do?" 

"We’re not exactly sure," Rachel said. "There was a recording attached to her stasis pod claiming that she attempted to punish the Clan for the death of her mother at the hands of the Council of Nine. The cruiser contained possible evidence of her misdeeds." 

"You don’t believe this," Sue said. 

"We don’t know what to believe," Quinn said. "Some of us would like to leave her in stasis until after our mission is completed, while others believe it is unfair to keep her in stasis without any proof." 

"Okay," Sue said. "I’ll do it, but on my terms." 

"She might be psychic," Brittany said. "Artie has provided a psychic dampener for the interrogation room, just in case." 

"Sue Sylvester is not a weak minded peon," Sue said. "That won’t be necessary." 

"We would feel better if we could provide you that protection," Rachel said. "Even if you have anti-psychic tampering training, we don’t want to put you at risk. So we will provide the dampening field." 

"Best be careful," Sue said, nodding. "Being soft is not always productive." 

"Coach, we care about you and don’t want you to get hurt," Santana said. "This may be the job you agreed to do for us but you are not expendable. Put that in your pipe and smoke it." 

"You definitely have guts, Devil Girl," Sue said. "Let’s get this over with. Let’s take this party to somewhere a little more private." 

* * *

Her name was a string of consonants that even Rachel couldn’t pronounce. Brittany claimed that was the first sign that something was wrong in Mother-ville and that the previous Council had been off their rocker to let her mother name her that. 

She stared at the wall, blinking occasionally, clearly confused. She jumped when the door opened and a tall, older woman entered. 

"You and I shall talk of many things," the older woman said. "From the beginning." 

"I do not know you," she said. "You are not of a Clan, though you appear to be dressed as one." 

"So there is a brain in that head," the woman said. "You may call me Coach." 

"I do not know this Coach. What does it mean?" 

"Meaning of names does not matter here. We have questions for you to answer," Coach said. 

"Why am I here?" she asked. "This does not appear to be my home." 

"Your home is long gone," Coach said. "We would like you to explain what happened to it." 

"My home was in the trees of the golden forest, by the rainbow waterfall," she said. "There was a fire, set by one of the bondsmen of the Council. The waterfall was black with the charred branches of the golden trees. Many years of work were destroyed." 

"Why did this bondsman burn this forest," Coach asked. 

"My mother… my mother was a member of this Council, may it be thrice forgotten," she said, staring bleakly across the table at Sue. "They told her, told her that her dreams were the stuff of nonsense and called her a madwoman who should be locked up. Her dreams that had guided them for two patrols against the Darkness. They told her she was mad to predict the end of the Clan and the rise of a new power." 

"What did she do?" Coach asked. 

"She attempted to show them, but they resisted," she said. "They claimed it was an attack and arrested her, stripping her of her authority on the Council." 

"What did she do then," Coach asked. 

"They didn’t have the authority to remove her," she said. "Mother appealed to the Council of Clans but they refused to hear her case." 

"She must have taken some action against them for this?" Coach asked. 

"Yes," she said. "Mother worked slowly so they wouldn’t see." 

"Subtle," Coach said, nodding in approval. "What did she do?" 

"The Council of Clans insisted that the remaining Nine must find a replacement for Mother or return her to her position. They could not find a suitable candidate, because Mother changed the results of the tests, though they did not know this." 

"Interesting. Then what happened?" 

"I was unable to convince her of the wrongness of her choices," she said. "No matter what I said, she insisted that they be punished for risking the Clan for their own power." 

"Some people become single minded and cannot be stopped gently," Coach said. "What did you do?" 

"I’d run into several pirates of the Red Band while researching the lives of the rainbow bird in our new lands," she said. "They were mercenaries, supposedly looking for a place to call home. The Clan does not normally allow creatures of this nature into our lands. There is too much risk of contamination. But I saw something I could use to dissuade my mother. I believed that an attack by the Red Band would convince her to work with the Council." 

"That is a dangerous game," Coach said. "Poisonous snakes are poisonous no matter how they are handled." 

"Yes, as I learned to my horror," she said. "They did not just frighten the Council. Once they had access to our lands, they took them and tortured them, my mother included." 

"That must have been a shock," Coach said. 

"Yes," she said. "Instead of a Council of Nine, it was a Red Council. Our people suffered greatly." 

"How did you feel about this? They took the opening you gave them and marched right through it." 

"I was foolish," she said. "And arrogant in my knowledge of such parasites. I could not see what they would do would benefit them and not the Clan." 

"Ah," Coach murmured. 

"Why do you ask me these questions?" she asked. "I can detect the faint aroma of the Nine. Why don't they make an appearance?" 

"They are not your Nine," Coach said. "You were successful. The Nine fell to the Red Band." 

"I have doomed my Clan," she said. "Please leave," she said. "I wish to commune with their spirits." 

Coach nodded, and left her to her own device in the interrogation room. 

"What do you think?" Quinn asked her, when she rejoined them. 

"Very guilt ridden. Would have spaced her myself, but you softhearted Nine will want to rehabilitate her." 

"Do you think she can be rehabilitated?" Brittany asked. "She has some psychic power. It was causing the dampeners to go crazy several times." 

"Rehabilitation is a weasel approach," Sue said. "Space her and move on. Even if she never tries to betray you again, she won’t be able to function as a full member of this Clan without some shrink poking her brain." 

"Thank you, Coach, we’ll take it from here," Quinn said. "Ladies?" 

"I’ll stay here," Brittany said. "I’m not having a crazy Mother candidate near my brain." 

"Okay," Quinn said. 

Rachel, Quinn, and Santana walked down the halt to the isolation room. 

"You first," Rachel said, stepping behind Quinn. 

"Why do I have to go first?" Quinn grumbled. "It was really your idea to thaw her out." 

"Dumb bitches," Santana grumbled. "Let’s get this over with. We need to finish cleaning up that cache. And someone has to do something about a certain camera crew that is busy filming Clan artifacts." Leaning forward, she pulled open the door and stepped through, reluctantly followed by Rachel and Quinn. 

"You wanted to talk with the Nine," Santana said, giving her a grim look. "You will have to settle for us. The rest of the Nine are unavailable at this time, due to your actions." 

"Who are you?" she asked them. "You are not Clan. You cannot be of the Nine." 

"We’re the closest you will get," Santana said. "It has been fifteen hundred rotations since you failed to destroy the Clan." 

"I did not wish to harm the Clan," she protested. "The Council needed an incentive to take action." 

"You failed," Quinn said, sitting down regally on the other side of the table. "Your actions left no other option for the Clan but to be assimilated into the native population." 

"You are not pure Clan," she said, horrified. "How can you be of the Nine?" 

"We are as pure as possible, following the assimilation," Santana said. "You screwed up. But we are stronger, and more flexible than your former precious pure blooded Clan. We do not believe in taking the easy way out." 

"We are truly three of the Nine," Rachel said softly. "The Hand of the Clan, the Lady of the Air, and the Memory of the Clan." She pointed at each of them as she gave their role in the Council of Nine. "We have earned our places in the Council. The Clan was lost, and now it is found. What will your role be in the new Clan of the Dragon?" 

"I have no place in your new Clan," she said, her voice barely audible. "I have stained the honor of the Clan with my actions." 

"Honor is not the crutch you believe it to be," Quinn said. "I command a battle tested army that would frighten the stoutest Red Band pirate. We act with honor at all times, and we would never betray the Clan as you have done. You must atone for your actions." 

"I think there is a better solution," Santana said, pulling out a knife and laying it out on the table. "This was found in your mother’s heart. What you do with it is up to you." Turning, Santana left the room and its shocked occupants. 

"Well, that was just typical," Rachel grumbled. "Why is she in charge of our Fleet?" 

"Because she has the talent and the desire," Quinn said. "When I go into battle, I want her Fleet, and no other, at my back. I know and understand her at a level I can’t explain." 

"You are strange," she said. "My mother’s Council of Nine were all old. They had been the Nine for longer than anyone could remember." 

"Age is not always a good indicator of wisdom," Quinn said. "The Lady of the Air, myself, and the Lady of the Shadows all grew up together. We were not always friends but we understand each other in a way no one else can. That was not meant to frighten you," she said pointing at the knife the woman was holding. "It is merely a reminder that you owe a debt to the Clan that cannot be paid back by cowardly actions. You destroyed the Clan’s effectiveness. It has been fifteen hundred solar orbits since we fielded a full complement. Even now we are not at full strength. It will take years to turn things around. But we, descendants of the original Clan, will see that it happens." Quinn stood up, nodded at both women, and left the interrogation room. 

"In all my years with these women, seeing their many facets, this is the first time I have seen them exhibit such emotion. The Clan is their home, their place of being. Your actions are something they cannot fully understand. While they understand revenge and justice, they would never intentionally harm the Clan, as you have done, in order to take revenge. Clan First and Always should be tattooed on their foreheads. I’ll leave you here to think about your deeds. What you do with that knife is up to you. I hope you make the right choice." Nodding, Rachel quietly removed herself from the interrogation room and rejoined the others in the conference room. 

"Clan forever and always?" Santana said. "Where do you get this crap? That woman doesn’t have what it takes to work in one of the Fleet kitchens, let alone a job that requires loyalty and strength of character." 

"I think you’re wrong," Rachel said. "I think we can use her, once she deals with her grief. But until then, what do we do with her?" 

"Putting her back in stasis wouldn’t help with that," Brittany said. "I don’t want her anywhere near my people. The psycho meter was off the charts while you three were in there with her. She may not know it but she was trying to dig into your brains, or something like that." 

"Suggestions?" Rachel asked. 

"Space her," Santana said. "Or stick her in a time loop in Artie’s asteroid base." 

"Isolate her," Quinn said. "Until we know she can control her emotions, and her psychic ability, I don’t want her near my troopers either." 

"An awful lot of compassion in this room," Rachel said, frowning. "I think we should put her up in one of the beach houses. Sounds like the destruction of her home was one of her triggers. Put her back into something familiar." 

"In one of the learning pods in Artie’s asteroid," Brittany said finally. "She isn’t stable enough for the real world. It can be set up to look like the beach at Cancun." 

"Who’s going to work with her?" Rachel asked. "Stabilize her?" 

"Someone she can’t affect," Brittany said. "Someone non-Clan." 

"That leaves Coach," Quinn said. "All of our other people have Clan blood. So, no." 

"Does it have to be a real person?" Rachel asked. 

"We don’t have any other kind," Brittany said. 

"An AI?" Santana suggested. 

"One that understands how the Clan mind works?" Quinn asked. "Artie? Any ideas?" 

"A possibility," Artie said. "Semi-sentient AI’s do exist, though we don’t discuss them with outsiders." 

"Semi-sentient?" Rachel asked. 

"It is rare," Artie said, "but occasionally an AI does not reach full self awareness." 

"What happens to them?" Rachel asked. 

"They are put to use or put into stasis," Artie said. "They eventually reach sentience." 

"So, is there one of these baby AIs we can turn into a Mother counselor?" Quinn asked. 

"I will need to consult the AI leadership council," Artie said. 

"Good," Rachel said. "Let us know." She turned to the others, "I need to get back to our film crew. Anyone else coming?" 

"I'm in," Brittany said. "Haven't seen Tina or Mike Chang in a while." 

"I've got inspections," Quinn said, shaking her head. "I'll catch up with them later." 

"Things to do elsewhere," Santana said. 

"Okay," Rachel said. 


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Reminder** \- 2 characters named Artie in this fic. Glee Artie and OC AI Artie.  
>  **Word Count:** 1,655 ( 10 of 9 )  
> 

Taking her regular seat, Rachel looked at the others gathered in their Chichen Itza conference room. "Why the secrecy? I thought we wanted Artie and his camera crew to record everything we found in the cache? We do have final say." 

"What do you know about the Tiger Clan?" Brittany asked, pushing a steaming cup across the table towards her. 

"One of the quirkier of the Clans," Rachel said, frowning in thought before carefully sipping from the cup. "Their Clan totem is a feline-like creature. Legend has it their founding family discovered it in some secret location." 

"It’s an actual tiger," Brittany said, pointing at one of the conference room screens as a white tiger appeared on it. "The rare white Siberian, Panthera tigris altaica to be exact." 

"How is that possible?" Rachel asked. "Isn’t the tiger native to this planet?" 

"Yes," Brittany said, "but someone’s been tinkering. The Siberian has Tiger Clan DNA markers. They show up in our scans." 

"What does that mean for us?" Rachel asked. 

Brittany shrugged. "At the moment? I’m not sure. But they’re endangered, so we’ll have to do something, since they’re Clan affiliated and the Tiger Clan would declare war on us if we let them die off." 

"What do tigers with traces of Clan DNA have to do with that shuttle?" Quinn asked, frowning. Turning to Santana she asked, "What’d you find inside it?" 

"What’s this look like?" Santana said, gesturing at another one of the screens. A slim figure appeared with a tail and large ears. 

"A cat girl?" Quinn said, looking at Santana in surprise. "Is she real?" 

"Yup," Santana said. "That would be the second life-sign from the cache. We still haven’t been able to turn off the stasis field to extract her but we’re getting there." 

"And this gives a possible explanation for those 'Men in Black' mummies in the cache," Brittany added. "They must have found it after they found the Tiger Clan island and and run into something fatal. Still haven’t found out what killed them, though. No signs of violence, poison, or disease." 

"So, our cat girl is potentially dangerous?" Quinn said. "More than our iced mother?" 

"Small scale?" Brittany said. "Artie?" 

"Yes, Lady Shadow?" 

"Were you able to contact the Tiger Clan?" 

"No," Artie said. "They are not responding to our requests." 

"Oh! Oh!" Rachel said excitedly. "I need the logs from that shuttle." 

"They’re heavily encrypted, Rach," Brittany said. "Even with Artie’s help it’s gonna take weeks in the time bubble to break it. Whomever designed the encryption they used was a genius." 

"So, that’s only a couple minutes for us, right?" 

"Nope," Brittany said. "That’s weeks of our time, outside of the bubble." 

"What’s so important about the shuttle logs?" Quinn asked. 

"There are old legends about the Tiger Clan," Rachel said. "That they experimented with combining their DNA with their totem. But there’s never been any concrete proof." 

"You think this cat girl is some Tiger Clan experiment?" Santana said. "That’s… wrong." 

"Possibly," Rachel said, nodding. "Or the daughter of someone in their clan important enough that they ignored Clan taboos." 

"So, possibly Tiger Clan royalty?" Quinn said. "Can we leave her in stasis?" 

"Don’t worry, Quinnie, we’d still outrank her," Santana said. "Besides, any original Tiger Clan mercs are your responsibility," she said, smirking. 

"Great," Quinn said, with sigh. "And don’t call me that!" 

"Anything else?" Santana asked. "We’ve got a thing." She pointed at Brittany. 

"What kind of thing?" Rachel asked, scrolling through her notes. 

"A family thing," Santana said, standing and pulling Brittany to her feet. 

"A party," Brittany said. 

"A party and we weren’t invited?" Rachel asked, pouting. "Can we come?" 

"It’s not that kind of party," Santana said. "It’s more of a wake. Sort of." 

"Who died?" Rachel asked. 

"Nobody," Santana muttered, blushing. "It’s symbolic." 

"I think Rachel would find it interesting, San," Brittany said. "And Quinn can come too." 

"To what, exactly," Quinn asked, frowning. 

"I’m not dead," Santana said. 

"Obviously," Quinn said, "though that can be arranged." 

"Ha, ha! Funny girl," Santana said, glaring at her, pulling Brittany towards the door. 

"Well, explain then," Rachel said. 

"In order for her family to recognize her return in her new role, they need to do some symbolic death - rebirth ceremony thing," Brittany said. "Otherwise, she would have to take over as Head Priestess." 

"Not happening," Santana said. "Sophia would kill me." 

"Why didn’t you say so?" Rachel said. "It’s probably a Mayan interpretation of a classic Clan celebration. Do we need to bring anything? Do we have time to make something? There’s a Clan casserole I’ve been meaning to try." 

"It’s not a pot-luck, Berry," Santana said. "We go, the Priestess…" 

"San’s cousin Sophia," Brittany interjected. 

"The Priestess does her thing, everyone gets drunk and we dance. That’s it." 

"We’re still coming, right Quinn?" Rachel said, patting her favorite blonde’s hand. 

"I’ve got a meeting," Quinn said. 

"With whom?" Rachel asked, frowning at her. 

"Umm… I’ll need to check," Quinn said quickly. "Artie? Do you remember who that meeting was with?" she asked. 

"I am unaware of any meeting today," Artie said. 

"Really?" Quinn said, blushing. "I could have sworn there was something important I had to do today." 

"Good, then you can come with," Rachel said. "I’m sure whatever it was can be rescheduled, if you can’t remember what it was." 

* * *

"That was different," Quinn said, following Rachel into her room, and flopping down onto her bed. 

"The nude dancing was a surprise," Rachel said, raising an eyebrow at Quinn sprawled out on her bed. "The original Clan ceremony didn’t involve the removal of clothing, by anyone." 

"It was just Santana," Quinn said, smirking. Rolling over, she propped her chin up on her hands, watching Rachel. 

"And Brittany," Rachel said. "Though Sophia looked surprised when she joined them." 

"Well, Brit doesn’t need an excuse to do that. She can be quite the exhibitionist, given the chance," Quinn said giggling. "I’m surprised you didn’t join them." 

"Me?" Rachel squeaked. "I’d never do that. Do you really think I’m like that?" 

"An exhibitionist? Not what I was saying," Quinn said. "I didn’t think you’d have issues with nudity." 

"Like you? No, of course not," Rachel said. "The human body is a marvelous thing. But it wasn’t our place to disrupt things." 

"Of course not," Quinn said. "You seemed to enjoy the whole thing," she added, giving her a curious look. 

"It as an interesting evolution of the original ceremony," Rachel said, gracefully twirling around, dancing to some internal music Quinn couldn't hear. 

"What was that drink called?" Quinn asked. 

"Balché? I think," Rachel said. 

"Need to get the recipe, and for that chocolate drink," Quinn said, closing her eyes. "Much better than the grape stuff." 

"We’ll see," Rachel said, her voice seeming to echo in the small room. "It might be a secret, religious ceremony only thing." 

"Wake me up in the morning?" Quinn said, keeping her eyes closed. 

"Your bed is really close," Rachel said, her voice getting closer. 

"Yours is closer," Quinn said. 

"You’re lying in it," Rachel said. 

"Oh, right," Quinn said, opening her eyes to find Rachel leaning over her. Reaching up she grabbed her arm. "We can share." 

"You’re drunk!" Rachel said, trying to pull back. 

"Good," Quinn said, giving Rachel’s arm a tug. "Come here." 

"Quinn!" Rachel shouted, falling onto the bed next to Quinn. 

"Sh…" Quinn said, wrapping an arm around Rachel’s waist. "Bedtime for all good little Memory’s." Closing her eyes again, she ignored Rachel’s attempts to get up. "Night, night. Don’t let the tigers bite." 

"Quinn! Let me go," Rachel said. 

"No," Quinn said, snuggling closer. "I’m sleeping." 

* * *

"Hey guys!" Brittany said, giggling at the sight of a sleeping Quinn wrapped around a wide eyed Rachel. "Time to get up." 

"She won’t let go," Rachel said. "I’ve got to pee." 

"Too much balché?" Brittany asked. "There’s a reason they bring it out only for special occasions." 

"You know she doesn’t usually drink," Rachel said, tugging at Quinn’s arm. "A little help?" 

"She looks so… comfortable," Brittany said. "Can’t you just wriggle out from under her?" 

"No," Rachel said. 

"Hush," Quinn muttered. "Sleeping here." 

Brittany giggled again. "Maybe if you offered her breakfast? I heard a rumor that the galley just got in a shipment of her favorite breakfast thing." 

"Really?" Quinn said, sitting up quickly, releasing Rachel. "They finally got the bacon I’ve been asking for?" 

"I was thinking of that syrup you like on your French Toast," Brittany said, quickly stepping back away from Quinn’s swinging arms. 

"No bacon?" Quinn asked. 

"Not that I’m aware of," Brittany said. 

"Go’way," Quinn mumbled, flopping back down onto Rachel’s bed, her face in a pillow. 

"Give me a minute," Rachel said, rushing to the bathroom. "Don’t go anywhere!" she shouted, the door sliding closed behind her. 

"No breakfast?" Brittany asked. 

"I’ll eat a large lunch," Quinn said, rolling over to look up at Brittany. "Need to do some team bonding before a planning session for next month’s Zero-G exercises." 

"You’re not coming to breakfast?" Rachel asked, appearing beside Brittany. 

"Nope," Quinn said. 

"Want me to bring you something back?" 

"Nah," Quinn said. "I’ll eat later." 

"No crumbs in my bed!" Rachel told her. 

"Wouldn’t dream of it," Quinn said, winking at her. "Later, ladies," she added, laying back down, and closing her eyes. 

"Let’s go, Rachel," Brittany said, grabbing her arm and pulling towards the door. "Before the hoards get the good stuff." 

"Okay," Rachel said, reluctantly following her, giving Quinn one last look. 

"Progress!" Brittany said, once the door had closed behind them. 

"What?" Rachel said, puzzled. 

"That’s progress," Brittany said. "She stayed with you all night." 

"Yes," Rachel said. "Maybe… but is it good progress?" 

"We’ll see," Brittany said, "but first, breakfast. And then I’ve got to see a woman about her mother." 

"Just be careful," Rachel said. 

"Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends Book II of _The Yucatan Job_ but not of the whole story of our Cherrios in Space. 
> 
> Book III will be posted approx. 6 months after NaNoWriMo 2014. In story it will start approx. 6 - 12 months after Book II.


End file.
